


Turn of the Tide

by EmeraldStormborn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-War, Romance, Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldStormborn/pseuds/EmeraldStormborn
Summary: Severus Snape discovers the identity of the Auror who saved his life, but can he woo her during one of the most dangerous missions of her life?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 54
Kudos: 113





	1. Making Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> _I originally published to fanfiction.net in 2010. It is not by any means perfect or, for that matter, even close, but I love Demyan, so up it goes. Please be kind. Most of the editing was done by my friend Sabrina, and she is sorely missed._

* * *

Surviving Nagini's bite had changed Severus Snape. Although still moody, for that would never just go away, he was grateful for what he did have: A life. Even if it was a dark and lonely one. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a spark of hope he dared never to dream about. But, if he could survive what he had, he could definitely survive loneliness. Besides, he had a secret purpose that he lived for, and that was to find the Auror who'd saved him just in time. At this rate, she seemed like an elusive mythical creature even Wizarding books didn't know of.

And so it was with shock and surprise that Severus ran into an Auror in a small pub in Diagon Alley. Literally ran into her, for neither of them had been watching their step. Her scent had caught his attention before her astonishing looks did, for it seemed somewhat familiar — it was unusual, because no woman's scent could be so familiar to him, or so welcomed by his senses.

And then she gazed up at him for no more than a mere second, and Severus's breath hitched. She was so utterly beautiful that it hurt. Her long, brown tresses had red tints that sparkled in the low light of the pub. Her honey-brown eyes stood out starkly against her smooth face and dark eyebrows; eyes that seemed familiar even if the rest of her appearance did not. Her lips… Merlin, she was delectable. But all too soon she had looked away, murmured, "Pardon," and marched around him, leaving him to stare at her retreating form. She was out the door before he could blink.

From then on he hadn't managed to put her out of his mind. He felt like he was half-crazed when he actually had an idea to go to the Ministry and make his way to the Auror Office. Instead, each night he went to the pub, waiting for her to return.

On a particularly lonely night, he sat at the bar in the Three Broomsticks drinking Firewhiskey. His old colleague, Minerva McGonagall, came in with a large group, spotted him, and made nice, but he hadn't been able to bear it. He told her he needed to use the loo and would probably leave after, and wished her a good night.

When he came back, gathering his cloak and preparing to take his leave, he heard tinkling laughter rise from among all the noise in the pub. His head turned as if it had a will of its own to see the Auror from the other night sitting with McGonagall, as well as a few others he couldn't make out from where he was standing. Too intrigued to just walk away, and not concerned at all for his dignity (he barely had any since the war, anyway), he drew closer to their table.

The Auror had her hair tied back from her face, and the end of her ponytail rested on her shoulder in an utterly feminine way. Her eyes were enchanting as they sparkled with mirth from whatever jokes she'd heard. Her smile was dazzling as she turned to listen to the young man sitting next to her. A red-haired, freckled… blast, another Auror, and none other than Ronald Weasley himself.

Severus's attention rested on the other young man at their table, sitting on the other side of his Auror. He, too, wore the official robes of an Auror. On further examination, as he suspected, it was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Twice, and his arm was slung around the woman Auror's shoulders as if she were his property. But then, Potter's other arm was also around a red-headed woman sitting on his other side. Who knew Potter was a swinger? But Severus loathed the idea that Potter was swinging with the elusive Auror who'd been in his thoughts for several weeks.

He focused on her now, watching her feign irritation with the stupidity of the jokes before erupting into that tinkling laughter again. Something about that smile, something about the crinkle to her nose… His eyes rested on the curls over her shoulder and he felt his brain trying to make a very important connection.

Suddenly, Minerva turned toward him with surprise. She smiled indulgently. "Severus!" she greeted enthusiastically, waving him forward. He said no in his brain, but his feet moved him toward their table. "How lovely! Severus, you should join us."

"Us?" Severus questioned sardonically, hoping to find out more about his Auror without being overly eager.

"Surely you remember your fellow students, and more importantly your fellow comrades from the war!" Her voice had turned into a high soprano. He suspected Minerva had had a little too much to drink already.

He pretended to be slightly surprised in seeing Potter, and his voice dripped with acid as he spoke. "Ah, Mr. Potter… so nice to…"

"It's Auror Potter," the young man said defiantly, his face no longer filled with happiness as it had been just a few moments ago.

Severus watched the woman Auror place a hand on Harry's forearm and calm him. "Harry, he very nearly died trying to protect us all. Show some respect," she suggested, and leaned back away from her friend.

Severus felt like balking — no one had ever stood up for him before — but instead raised a brow. "Potter, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of being introduced to your friend," he said smoothly, not taking his eyes off the young woman who seemed to be mighty uncomfortable now, shifting in her seat.

He saw all the faces look increasingly bewildered and annoyed with him, and hated being on the receiving end of that, rather than the giving.

McGonagall spoke then, when she realized no one else was going to say anything. "Surely, Severus, you remember your savior, Hermione Granger?"

Severus did balk then. The insufferable know-it-all had rescued him? The insufferable know-it-all was this astonishingly sexy all these years later? It was almost enough for him to proclaim himself mad and turn himself into St. Mungo's. He felt foolish for not connecting the pieces of the puzzle sooner. Of course a brown-haired witch enduring stupidity from Potter and Weasley had to be Granger. 

"Miss… Miss Granger," he managed, not believing what he was saying. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of thanking you properly," he stated, blurting out the first dunderheaded words that came stumbling to his mind. He wanted Granger, but he certainly didn't want that revealed yet — he had yet to make any kind of peace with that realization. 

Hermione bit her lower lip, an action he found too seductive for her own good. "I assure you it's not necessary, Sir." He saw her move slightly, and from the grimace on Weasley's face, he assumed it was a swift kick to the shins. Whatever that was about.

"Nevertheless," Severus pushed on, slapping his hands to the table and leaning forward over it to be closer to her, "I'd like to take you out; perhaps dinner tomorrow night?" He ignored the others' disgusted faces, as well as Minerva's suddenly happy squeaks about the prospect and her applauding at his efforts.

When Hermione didn't answer, he leaned away. "Eight o'clock, then," he announced, and swirled around to depart.

Hermione called after him. "I didn't say yes!" Her voice sounded haughty, sexy to him. He didn't turn around, but kept walking. A smirk did come to his face as he exited.


	2. Extending Invitations

* * *

Harry and Ron stood in front of her, looking none-too-happy.

"Are you mad?" Harry started in, and Ron had a fierce look that denoted he would be joining in on the slamming. "He's a git, Hermione. You’ve known it since you were twelve years old."

Before she could even answer that, and reprimand Harry for calling possibly the greatest war hero of all time a git, Ron started in even louder than Harry.

"He was staring at your…" His eyes dropped to her chest, and she could've sworn he smirked before becoming outraged again. "Your bits! He was positively drooling over you all of the three minutes he stayed!"

Hermione could tell Harry didn't feel Ron was helping their argument; his face screwed up and he lifted his hand to smack Ron on the back of the head, but another hand grabbed his around the wrist, and both men turned to stare at a disapproving Ginny Weasley-Potter.

"Ron, tell me I don't need to remind you of your reaction to Hermione when she came back from France two weeks ago." Ginny's disgusted tone didn't dissipate when she faced her husband. "And Harry, you should be ashamed. Because of him, you were able to defeat Voldemort. For Merlin’s sake, your own testimony exonerated the man!" 

Harry looked properly contrite, but he grumbled sheepishly, “That doesn’t mean I want him coming onto my friend.”

"I think you've been spending too much time with Hermione, Ginny," Ron muttered as he pouted.

Hermione and Ginny grinned at each other, and Ginny started tugging her husband out of the Auror Office. "I'm making something special for dinner tonight," she was telling Harry, and he was tugged along as he glared at Hermione over his shoulder the whole way out.

Hermione ignored Ron as she turned her back on him, bending to collect her things. She needed to go freshen up at her flat before Apparating to meet her former professor in Hogsmeade.

"What if we went out tonight instead?" Ron asked slyly, and when Hermione turned she saw him holding onto the edge of her cubicle with one hand, leaning toward it with what she could only assume he meant to be a seductive stance.

She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and began to button up her robes. "Don't you have a date tonight?"

Ron's grin almost faltered, but then returned full-blast. "Easy cancellation for the girl of my dreams." He stepped forward then, his face serious. "I'll give you a night to remember."

Hermione couldn't help it. She threw her head back and laughed, laughed until her stomach hurt from it. The whole idea was absolutely absurd. Not only had Ronald made it quite clear after they'd broken up a couple years prior that she wasn't anywhere near his type – "the girl of his dreams" seeming to always have straw-colored hair and rather large breasts – but the fact that he was so adamant about her not going out with Snape that he would cancel a date and no doubt listen to her talk about books just to assure she didn't follow through with her plans was a funny thing, indeed. She didn't think she'd laughed so hard in ages.

Passing by him, she patted his shoulder and called out as she walked toward the door, "Have fun tonight, Ronald. I know I will."

* * *

Severus greeted her just outside of the fine dining restaurant he had told her about by owl post earlier in the day. He was clad in his usual black, but Hermione thought that, post-war or not, it had always suited him. The only thing missing from what she remembered from her school days was his aura of menace. He smirked at her as he greeted, "Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Good evening, Professor Snape. And I should like it if you would call me Hermione," she replied, standing awkwardly at arm's-distance from him.

The way he chivalrously took her hand and placed a smooth kiss upon her knuckles as snow fell around them, and the way he gently removed her outer cloak for her and spoke in her ear, "Then you must call me Severus," as they walked in astounded her senses. She felt as if she were in an almost dream-like state. How long had it been since she'd been on a date? _Especially with someone intelligent,_ she added in her mind, knots in her stomach as Severus pulled out a chair for her. Of course, after her makeover in France, she'd received several offers from interested wizards of splendid nights; she just hadn't accepted any until last night.

 _And why is that, Hermione?_ she asked herself. At Hogwarts, though she entirely disagreed with his method of earning respect by fear in the classroom, she admired how incredibly talented he was. She'd often thought that if people called her the brightest witch of her age, then he must have been the brightest wizard of his. She'd caught a glimpse of his massive book collection while sneaking into his storeroom in her second year for Polyjuice Potion ingredients, and her hands had itched.

When she was older, and it was revealed that he had saved their lives on so many different accounts, protecting a boy whose father and godfather had been so unpleasant to him he'd turned into a cruel man, and taking on the most risk-filled position in spying for Dumbledore, her admiration for him had filled her until she almost burst out in one of his classes in sixth year about how brave he was.

Things, of course, changed when he'd killed Dumbledore. For the second time in her young life, she had actually hated a person; hated him even more than that toad Dolores Umbridge. Although a nagging voice in the back of her mind felt that it couldn't possibly be as it seemed, she had hated Severus Snape… until she had found him, lying there dying before her very eyes, the snake bite on his neck paralyzing her in its grotesque glory. He had been playing such a role, to save them all, and she couldn't imagine the alternative outcome, if he hadn't done so well.

"You are practically unrecognizable, Hermione." Severus said, breaking her out of reminiscing.

He steepled his fingers together as he leaned slightly back from the table and scrutinized her; it was still hard for him to believe the young woman in front of him was the pain-in-his-bum Miss Granger from earlier years… Or, it had been, minutes ago. She had a familiar look on her face, one that told him she was in deep thought.

"So unrecognizable, in fact, that I wondered what Potter and Weasley would be doing without you; if they had replaced you with another female." With a hidden smirk, it dawned on him that although it was a new Hermione Granger, it was still Hermione Granger. Her hair had become smooth, hanging down her back in silky waves, and she wore a good amount of subtle make-up that increased her beauty, but her eyes were the same. Those curious, searching, eager eyes he knew so well. He'd lain in the hospital a long time, trying to overcome death. And it had been four long years since the war. But he could never forget her eyes.

Hermione gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "They wouldn't dare."

She lowered the menu she was holding, and set it down on the table to return his stare. She didn't know why a part of her felt slightly injured at his great incredulity about her appearance. Of course, it was the reaction of everyone who hadn't seen her since she'd been to the magical beauty salon in France; Ronald had been near to tackling her right in the Auror Office when she had returned from her vacation. But she found herself slightly disappointed that the extremely intelligent Severus Snape – someone she'd believed for a while was a lot like her, in the way that she did not value the outside as much as the inside – was reacting to her new exterior beauty.

"If I told you my secret, I would have to kill you," she warned him teasingly, refusing to think thoughts of why. She was the one who had gone and done it, after all; even if it was for an undercover assignment coming within the next week.

Severus smirked and rested his chin atop his fingers. "Very well, then," he conceded, his eyes still never leaving her face. He didn't have the slightest idea that not doing so would make her uncomfortable; or perhaps he did notice the little nervous movements she made, and didn't care. He would drink his fill of her tonight. She was the one he had been searching for all along, the Auror that had saved his life; the same Auror he'd bumped into at the pub. And just because she happened to be Hermione Granger didn't deter him. She seemed more tolerable now than she ever had as an insufferable teenager. In fact, perhaps he could tolerate a lot of her… and he intended to.

"Speaking of Harry and Ron, though, they did ask me to send you their kindest regards tonight." Hermione was surveying the menu again, and so he couldn't see the small smile she wore.

Severus snorted. "Of course they did," he sneered sarcastically. "No doubt Weasley was trying to chain you to your cubicle at the Ministry. Or perhaps," his voice lowered in question, "he was trying to persuade you to join him tonight, instead?" His eyes sought hers, even though they were behind the menu. Hermione didn't reply, which answered his question anyway.

The server showed up at the side of their table, asking politely for their orders. Severus noted that the server, too, was quite taken with Hermione's appearance, and Severus didn't think her soft, gracious tone helped to discourage anyone from taking an immediate fancy to her. He sneered out his order to the man, and then returned his eyes to the beauty in front of him only to see her watching him with a furrowed brow. He inwardly cursed; he really had tried to be more pleasant, now that he wasn't going around pretending to be working for the other side. He even attended the Headmistress' tea times when she asked. But seeing the server leer at the woman he'd been trying to get the attention of for quite some time had brought back old, buried, unwanted memories. He wouldn't compete for a woman again like he had for Lily Evans. _Not even,_ he thought as he stared at Hermione grimly, _for this one._

"I have been looking for the one who saved me for some time. The only direction I was ever given was that it was an Auror," he told her ruefully, the frown on his face indicating how displeased it made him. Hermione blushed then, and he spotted it right away. "You know why?" He didn't have to ask. He knew she was guilty of something, with that look on her face.

"I… Well, I asked it not to be noted. I asked for all the names of those I saved in the war not to be noted. I didn't want people to feel pressured to repay debts to me." Her eyes met his. "Especially you." She shrugged delicately. “I suppose it was meant to throw you off the scent to say that it was an Auror. I went into training for the title immediately, of course, but I wasn’t one at the time I tried to save you.” 

"How very Gryffindor of you," Severus spoke, but it wasn't taunting or said with a sneer. He wasn't even sure she noticed he had said anything; her eyes were slightly glazed as if she were caught in memories.

She winced suddenly and blinked. "If I had been a minute sooner, perhaps I could have…"

"There is no use in dwelling on what could have been done." His voice was hard now, as if trying to ban her from the subject. "I'm alive, am I not?"

Hermione smiled hesitantly, her eyes slowly brightening. "Yes, you are."

* * *

The night continued splendidly, Hermione regaling him with stories from her training as an Auror, something she thought she would never choose as a line of work. She told him of how she'd managed to get on a brilliant research team at the Ministry while still fulfilling her duties as an Auror, and the new books that came out after the war with her name in them that she had tried to refrain from buying. "I might be a know-it-all, and somewhere inside of me I might like to show-off every once in a while," she stated, her eyes twinkling, "but I've found myself embarrassed with how they go on!"

Severus had an equal share in the discussion. He agreed with her about the books – his own name had appeared in many heroic retellings of the war, and it unnerved him that so many people claimed to be enamored with his acts, but still feared approaching him. He told her how he hadn't asked questions after his long recovery at St. Mungo's, just returned to work at Hogwarts, taking back his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. "I don't know where the students found out about my obsession to obtain that post," he told her, "but, as much as I do have a passion for Potions, I enjoy Defense." His revelation made Hermione laugh, and as much as he wanted to smile at her, he was too busy getting increasingly aroused by how magnificent she was.

As the server poured Hermione a fourth glass of wine, and she smiled thankfully up at the young man, Severus thought he would explode.

"I'd quite like it if you would smile at me like that," he murmured after their server disappeared, and then took a sip of Firewhiskey and let it wash through his system. _Must stay in control,_ he reminded himself. _Even if she does make you feel like a callow youth._

Hermione's eyes widened, and she chewed on her lower lip for a moment before saying, "I guess a part of me wonders how you would take it."

Not expecting this puzzling answer, Severus smirked, and leaned back in his chair slightly. "And how, Hermione, do you imagine I would take it?"

She chewed on her lower lip for a few more seconds while she thought about her answer, and the action heated his body even more. If the table weren't separating them…

"Well, I suppose that you could randomly sneer at me. You've been most delightful this evening, but old habits die hard. And if you sneered, I would probably be put-off, and it would put a damper on the good fun we've had so far." She mulled her words over, and then continued, "On the other hand, you could become quite embarrassed, if I turned the full brightness of my smile on you. Even my dentist parents couldn't believe their eyes." A corner of her mouth turned up as she leaned in and lowered her voice. "While I don't mind embarrassing a young man like our server, I'd rather not leave such an intelligent man as you speechless."

 _Ah, to be a Gryffindor,_ Severus thought dryly, taking another sip of his Firewhiskey as he thought about her words. Hermione was such a refreshing conundrum: she was slightly shy, demure, and sophisticated for the most part, but he knew all too well that when challenged, a fire burned brightly inside of her. Her personality was seemingly the perfect balance between astuteness and impetuousness.

"What if, foregoing those two alternatives, I just invited you back to my quarters and gave you a bloody good reason to smile so beautifully up at me?" Slytherin be damned; he had his own courage when there was something he wished to have. And saying that Hermione Granger was something he wished to have was probably the biggest understatement he'd heard in recent months.

Hermione raised a brow, and he could see that, although she tried to be bold in the face of his ballsy question, a flush of red was inching up her neck into her cheeks. "We haven't even had dessert yet," she told him, her eyes straying from his after trying to hold the contact and failing at the heat flaring in his gaze.

"I promise you," he lowered his voice silkily, deliciously, sending delightful chills up her arms, "you wouldn't miss it."

Hermione visibly shivered as his voice enveloped her in its lustrous richness, and her eyelids drooped just infinitesimally as she thought of the possibilities. Severus was appearing very pleased with himself that he'd had such an effect on her so easily, and it caused her to snap out of it.

Her mind began to wander all over the place. She voiced her opinions out loud, but quietly to him and with an air as though philosophizing. "If things were different," she began, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

"What did I tell you about 'ifs'?" He chastised her, his lips now in a straight line.

Hermione continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "If I hadn't saved your life… If I was just Hermione Granger, and not the new Hermione Granger, as it were…" At his look of bewilderment, she clarified, "The beautiful, near-flawless-on-the-outside one." She didn't look at him as she asked the question that'd been in the back of her mind since the beginning of the dinner. "Would you still be extending such an invitation?" She laughed then, but it was mirthless and self-deprecating. "I can hardly believe that someone like you would ask the bossy, bushy-haired know-it-all out to dinner… or go even further to invite her to your private rooms."

Severus' frown was extremely severe as he questioned, "Someone like me?"

"A war hero who, if I recall correctly, can barely tolerate any… _insufferable_ goody-two-shoes," Hermione elucidated swiftly.

Severus scoffed at the term "war hero." He was nobody's hero; the idea was laughable. He was the bane of too many people's existences.

"Well?"

Hermione was waiting for an answer, and Severus wasn't sure he had the right one. Would he have asked her to dinner last night if things had been different? A part of him had loved the perusal of a mysterious, stunningly gorgeous woman who had saved his life, and he wondered if that was why he so readily accepted that that woman was Hermione. But a part of him also speculated if he would've been able to resist Hermione had he come across her somehow after the war, under different circumstances, in a different reality. Her intelligent mind, while he'd never admitted it, had stood out to him.

"I cannot answer that question," he said simply, leaning in closer to the table to look into her eyes. "What's the use of pondering alternative scenarios to a reality that is happening in the now?" He reached out and ran a finger down the knuckles of her hand that was clutching around the stem of her wine glass. "I honestly don't imagine I would still be sitting here right now, if I didn't enjoy what you have to say as much as I enjoy looking at you." It was a lie. Severus knew he'd still be there. But he couldn't deny that he took pleasure in listening to her voice as she elaborated on the part of her past he hadn't participated in.

She didn't bestow upon him the smile he was seeking, but she did give the same, small, hesitant smile she had before, and it was a start. She removed her hand from around the stem of her wine glass, and wrapped her fingers around his.

If there was anything Severus found embarrassing, as Hermione had suggested, it was this: a soft, tender touch of another. No one had touched him in that way before, save for Lily Evans, and knowing that her heart had been torn between him and damn Potter Senior hadn't made it very special. Minerva had touched his forearm before, simply in a concerned way. But Hermione was holding onto his fingers with a warm look on her lovely face, and although his old self might have made a snide comment and pushed her away, he found himself opening up to all the potential.

After being impatient with the young server and scaring him into what was sure to be the fastest-ever exchange of payment for services rendered, Severus stood, helped Hermione out of her chair, and headed with purpose toward the door.

It was a dazed, but very contented Hermione who followed him out into the snowy night.


	3. Discovering Intentions

* * *

Hermione had forgotten how lengthy the walk to Hogsmeade was. She hadn't been back in so long, it seemed. So much had happened since leaving Hogwarts that her past seemed like a blur. And she regretted that. She'd love to be able to, as the Muggles would say, "Stop and smell the roses." Perhaps that was why she was now trudging through the thick snow alongside Severus Snape.

She really hadn't had such an enjoyable night in ages. She thoroughly loved being able to just settle down in a lovely restaurant, and discuss different subjects with someone who seemed to know where she was coming from. Admittedly, the best part had been listening to him. That voice did something wicked to her senses, as did his dark eyes that seemed to caress her with every gaze. And come to think of it, she'd rather walk with no one else up the long path to Hogwarts except for him.

But he hadn't spoken a word. On the other hand, neither had she. The situation was surreal; there couldn't be any doubt of that. She was treading beside her old Potions Master whom she never thought would even give her the time of day – regardless that she was his savior – with intentions of going to his private quarters. At the thought of that, she stopped. She had never even considered what might be going on up in that conniving, Slytherin mind of his.

Severus turned toward her, both of their feet sinking into place in inches of snow. He raised an expectant brow.

Hermione bristled at the look she knew so well and demanded, "What were your intentions when you _invited_ me to dinner last night, Severus?" Her voice suggested he hadn't given her as much an invitation as he had a command, but that was beside her point.

"Intentions?" A smirk curled the corners of his mouth, and he crossed his arms over his chest in an intimidating stance.

"Yes, your intentions. You've been awfully presumptuous with me, I've just realized. What if I had a boyfriend?" Her chin jutted up in defiance.

Severus threw his head back and laughed, but it was a dark and almost triumphant sound. Hermione's eyes widened at the sound of it.

He stalked toward her then, and took pleasure in seeing her stiffen. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were so large it was almost comical. She tried to step backward in the snow as he approached, but her feet were in too deep, and she started to fall.

He caught her around her waist, and his fingers sunk into her long, wavy strands. He imagined the silky texture was an added benefit of the "New Hermione" as she called herself, but it turned him on just the same.

"That mind of yours never did stop ticking, did it?" His voice was low, as he felt her hands curl around his shoulders. Her robes had fallen open, and the deep blue dress she wore underneath was hugging her luscious curves. He couldn't help himself as his head descended, and his lips caressed the tops of her breasts.

Hermione's eyelids fluttered as pleasure coursed through her body. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails sinking into his robes. Her head fell back, and in that moment she couldn't think at all.

"How are my intentions now, Hermione?" he asked her, lifting his head to peer down at her. She was bent back over his arm, and there was a flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold temperature. He found himself unable to resist once more as the flush drew attention to her graceful neck. His hand tightened around her waist, and he eased her up while his other hand kept her head tilted back.

"You don't know how long I've waited for you," he murmured, before his lips traveled over her throat, to the side of her neck just beneath her earlobe. He nibbled, making her squirm, and then sucked at the spot, intending to mark her as his. Four long years he'd waited to ensnare the woman who'd saved him, and now that he had her, he didn't intend on letting her go. He couldn't.

And to his great relief – though he hastened to bury such hopes, because in his life, all his hopes had been for naught – Hermione didn't seem to want to be let go. Her hands entangled in his hair, and she stretched her neck to the side, offering easier access for him.

"Kiss me, please," she begged, and her honey brown eyes opened to settle on him. Her lips parted breathlessly, and who was he to refuse such an invitation?

"If I kiss you, Hermione, I may have you out here in the snow." His voice came out hoarse. He was having a hard time keeping himself under control, and all he could think about was discovering all the secrets hidden underneath her heavy robes. But he wanted their coming together to be a special occasion. And, a perverted part of him wanted to see her stretched out and flushed all Gryffindor-red on his silk, Slytherin-green sheets.

"Just one kiss… Please, Severus." She moved against him, and her pelvis connected with his, making him shiver. "It's such a long way to the dungeons…"

Shoving both of his hands into her hair, he brought her lips to his, and gave her the most passionate kiss she'd ever received in her entire life. He literally plundered her mouth, kissing her so deep she thought she might come in that instant. All she could do was hold on tight and reel at how talented the man was with his mouth.

"Professor Snape?" a squeaky voice interrupted, and Hermione struggled to pull her mouth away.

Severus kept his hands in her hair as he released her lips, and stared angrily in the direction of the new voice.

The tiny Professor Flitwick was about fifteen feet away, a frown on his face. He held up his _Lumos_ -lit wand.

"Severus, is that you?" Flitwick was squinting, but he seemed confident it was his colleague, as he moved toward them with difficulty through the snow.

Hermione slapped Severus' hands away, and closed her robes quickly. She fussed with her hair for a moment, and then realized her former Charms professor probably wouldn't recognize her, anyway.

"Ah, Severus. It is very late to be stalking around the grounds…" Flitwick's high voice trailed off as he spotted Hermione. "Who's this, Severus?"

Severus was in a right state, and had a terrible urge to kick his colleague and send him flying. He should've taken her to the castle before he started kissing her. It was his mistake, and at that moment, he wanted to kick himself.

"Surely you remember Miss Hermione Granger," he ground out, through clenched teeth. His hands made fists as he stood there, trying to coax his aching erection to stop throbbing.

"Miss Granger?" Flitwick blinked rapidly. "Why, it's been ages!" He seemed to have forgotten what position he'd found them in, or else he just hadn't been able to make it out in the darkness. Either way, Hermione was glad.

"I'm delighted to see you again, Professor." Her voice was still slightly breathless, and Severus' head snapped her way to watch her.

"Oh, but you must call me Filius now! Word has it you, Potter and Weasley are revolutionizing the Auror Office!" He was the only delighted one, it seemed. Hermione was very aware of Severus' glare.

"We do try," Hermione managed, her voice glum. "I'll have to tell them I saw you."

"Oh, please do, please do." Flitwick's teeth chattered then, and he glanced up at Severus. "It's a might cold out here, isn't it? We should probably head back to the castle!" He looked at Hermione. "Were you on your way there, as well, Miss Granger?" His smile was generous, and Hermione tried to return it, but faltered.

"I'm afraid I should probably get back." She didn't look at Severus, but she could feel his stare boring a hole into her head. "It was so nice to see you again," she said politely, reaching down to shake Flitwick's hand. She turned to Severus. "And you, Severus," she added, holding out her hand.

He was not in a good mood at all, but he knew they must accept defeat tonight. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss along her knuckles, like he had when she'd met him outside of the restaurant.

Flitwick decided to stay with Severus as they watched Hermione return to the Apparating point. She waved at them, and was gone.

Severus was disconcerted to realize his lower half wasn't the only part of him aching at the loss of her. While he wanted to pretend it was the steep walk to the castle, he was sure his heart was throbbing because she was gone.

* * *

"So… how did it go last night?" Ginny was sitting across from Hermione on an overstuffed pouf, eyeing her speculatively. Harry and Ron were eating breakfast in Hermione's kitchen, and she could hear them talking excitedly about Hermione's upcoming undercover mission for the Aurors.

Keeping her voice low so the men in the next room couldn't hear, Hermione answered, "It was… interesting."

"Interesting?" Ginny was outraged. "You've got to give me more than that!" Ginny's expression turned smug and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides," she said in a haughty tone, "I already know something happened; you've got a love bite on your neck!"

"Keep your voice down!" Hermione hissed, glaring at her. She pulled the turtleneck she wore beneath her work robes up higher. After glancing at the door to the kitchen, she said, "I thought he was going to make love to me in the snow outside of Hogwarts!"

Ginny's eyes widened, and Hermione couldn't help but bite her lower lip to keep from grinning. She felt giddy about the idea, like a silly little school girl, and it was liberating, in a way. With all the responsibilities she had in her life now, she had hardly felt giddy recently.

"But that's so fast, Hermione," Ginny responded, her fingers on her lips as she continued to gape in surprise. "I didn't even know Snape could… well, you know… _want_ anyone, in that way." Ginny blushed briefly, but her eyes locked on Hermione's and she whispered, "Tell me everything!"

Hermione laughed softly. "If a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, why should a lady?"

"Bullocks! I told you about everything Harry and I did when we first got together." Ginny's tone was petulant.

"If you breathe a word of this to Harry," Hermione warned, her eyes serious, "I will curse your first-born child!" Of course she was only jesting, but the thought of Harry or Ron knowing of she and Severus' intimate encounter made her cringe. For as long as she could remember, Hermione's theory had been, "What the boys don't know won't hurt them." She could only imagine Harry trying to defend her honor by marching right into Hogwarts and telling Severus just what he thought.

Ginny waited expectantly, watching Hermione closely.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began, "Well, he was suggestive with me all night." She frowned in thought. "I suppose this new look really does attract men. At least we know for sure that it will work for the mission. If it beguiled Severus Snape, surely it can beguile my assignment," she added ruefully. Then her frown disappeared, and she grinned. "He more or less invited me to his quarters, and on the way there I realized that he had been so presumptuous with me, so arrogant. I guess my feminine hackles rose, you know."

At this she glanced up at Ginny to see if her friend did understand what she meant, but the redhead just waved her hand in an eager, circular rotation to urge Hermione on.

"He… well, he laughed when I questioned his intentions. Oh, Ginny, that man's voice is like pure sex, and I couldn't help but to be spelled…" She trailed off as the kitchen door creaked open, and Harry and Ron entered the room rubbing their stomachs.

"That was delicious, 'Mione. It's going to be a good day at the office," Harry announced, striding over to Ginny and pulling her up from the pouf. "Ready for work?"

Ginny began to protest, but Hermione smiled brightly and picked up her bag. "Let's go," she said, and Ron followed her to the door.

"You never mentioned about last night, Hermione. No doubt because Snape was a git to you," Ron supposed as he followed her to the door. Hermione smiled inwardly.

"Yeah, Hermione. I was kind of wondering about it, myself," Harry joined in, though his voice was slightly hesitant.

"Well, if you must know," Hermione started, as she turned to address them all, her hand on the doorknob. "It was magnificent. He was charming," she told them, and she smirked at the thought of Severus hearing anyone ever referring to him as charming. "And, he even paid for my dinner." She raised a brow at Ron, who looked sheepish. "It was the best date I've ever been on!" she informed them cheerfully, and then walked out the door.

Ron looked back at Harry with his mouth hanging open. "She's barking."

Ginny kicked her brother over the threshold.

* * *

Severus sat in front of a roaring fire, his fingers curled around a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. His eyes were hooded as he stared unseeingly into the flames.

He could still smell her perfumed neck. He could still feel the softness of her hair on the pads of his fingers. Hell, he could even hear her soft moans as she leaned back to give him access to her throat. He feared the very moment was going to be burned into the back of his brain for the rest of his days. She was magnificent. A little spitfire, if truth be told. And he wanted more.

But his old insecurities, as well as his old dark emotions, came rolling over him. That he could feel so strongly about her disturbed him; he hadn't even been able to sleep the night before, just laid in bed recalling the glossy look in her beautiful eyes after he'd kissed her. It was maddening, to feel this way again. He was jealous she was returning to Potter and Weasley to work alongside them all day. He recalled all too well trying to fight for the attention of Lily Evans while James Potter and Sirius Black fought even harder.

Except the urge to keep Lily's attention had never been as strong as what he felt in regards to Hermione. He wanted her at his side, wanted it so badly that he was sure he'd even be content to be wherever she was. It scared the hell out of him.

In truth, he'd never wanted to feel so strongly about another human being again. Lily, though it had never been her fault, was the source of his closing himself off against others, of never trusting, of always expecting the worst to happen in regards to what he hoped for. He couldn't let someone have that power over him again; he couldn't bear it. Not when he now had a second chance at life.

Though of course, when his thoughts turned to his second chance, Hermione came to mind. She had been the one to give it to him, and he'd set his sole purpose on finding her – even if he hadn't known it was Hermione Granger – he'd wanted to find the one who'd saved him. Find her, and, if he admitted it to himself, make her his.

But he wasn't sure he could abide Hermione. She made him feel something so raw, so deep, that it unsettled him. She was like Lily, in a way: Muggle-born, extremely bright, compassionate… she even kept company with troublemakers like Potter and Weasley. Perhaps that was why the thought of pursuing her left him disquieted – he feared that she would be exactly like Lily in the end, and leave him alone to rot for the rest of his days.

There was something about Hermione, though; something that separated her from Lily entirely. He wasn't sure if he knew what it was, but for the similarities, he felt, deep down that Hermione was different. She knew that he was a moody, oft-times bad-mannered git, and yet she had still met him at the restaurant. She'd laughed at his stories, given him small, shy smiles. She had let him worship her with his lips… trusted him enough to go limp in his arms and take the pleasure he offered…

Severus sneered down at the bottle in his hands. He wondered how he could sit and pry into his own mind as he never had before. He knew, inside, that it was necessary he sort himself out, if he ever wanted to make his second chance worthwhile. But he was so torn. How could he open himself up to Hermione when he knew that if she rejected him down the line, he'd be left in the same shape he had been in when Lily's rejection had come?

Gritting his teeth, he stood from his well-worn spot on the sofa and set the bottle of Firewhiskey down resolutely. Damned if he was going to let Hermione Granger slip through his fingers.

He hadn't heard from her all day, but perhaps she was waiting on him to write to her. He strode to his desk and extracted quill and parchment from within, and set to his task.

_Dear Miss Granger,_ he wrote, then murmured, " _Evanesco,_ " making it disappear. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate of him to use an endearment just yet.

_Miss Granger_ , he started again, but just as quickly Vanished it. Since when had he started addressing her by her surname again? She was no longer his student, and thank Merlin for that, because if she was, he wouldn't be able to hear another of her sweet little moans.

_Hermione_ , he wrote, but cursed and Vanished it angrily. Her first name alone was too curt, as if he hadn't left a love nip on the side of her neck the night before.

A knock came at his door, and he set his quill down. Pulling out his wand, he brought down the wards around his dungeon, and he opened the door to find Headmistress McGonagall waiting with a raised brow.

Severus raised a brow back at her as he held open the door. He was unsure why she had such a look upon her face, but he didn't like it…

"Shame on you, Severus," Minerva admonished him, her hands going to her hips.

"Was I supposed to patrol tonight?" he queried, frowning. Had he really been so consumed with thoughts of the little sorceress that he hadn't remembered his duties?

"No, Filius is on patrol." She swept past him into his quarters, and turned to look at him. "He informed me that last night he found you on the trail to Hogwarts with Hermione Granger!" Her hands went back to her hips, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this true?"

Severus folded his arms across his chest. "What of it? You knew I was taking her out to dinner." He scowled to try to get across that he didn't wish to speak on the matter.

"It is so selfish of you to keep the girl to yourself, Severus!" Minerva reprimanded, the bun at the back of her head shaking. "You should've invited her back to my office – we could've had tea!"

Severus smirked at the thought. If he had successfully brought Hermione back to the castle, the last place they would've ended up was the Headmistress' office. No, he would've had her in his quarters, arching her lovely little neck for him and calling out his name…

"You must write to her." Minerva's features were set, just like those withered hands at her hips.

Severus snapped out of his reverie. "I beg your pardon?"

"You must write to her, and invite her to come have dinner with us in the Great Hall tomorrow evening." Minerva was moving toward the door now, as if she expected him to carry out her orders without question.

"But I…" He tried, but Minerva cut him off.

"You must share her, Severus," Minerva snapped, exiting his quarters haughtily.

Like bloody hell he would.


	4. Uncovering Secrets

* * *

_To Hermione –_

_  
_

Your presence is requested at dinner in the Great Hall this evening. 

Yours,

Severus Snape

_P.S. If you refuse, I'll be much disappointed; not only due to the fact that you did not come, but also because Minerva will never let me hear the end of it._

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she read the letter three more times. Severus' unique mixture of formality and casualness was enough to amuse her, but the post script added to her enjoyment of the letter.

Harry, in the adjoining cubicle, stuck his head over the wall and asked, "What's so funny?" He situated his glasses on his face, as if it would help him identify the source of her amusement.

"Nothing, Harry," she replied, swiveling around in her chair and placing the letter down on her desk. She had a lot to contemplate, and with her assignment just around the corner, she felt overwhelmed.

As if she hadn't been thinking of the night before last the entire day, she remembered again what it was like to be in Severus' arms. Her face grew hot at the memory, and she rubbed the spot he'd left on her neck. Never in her life had she pleaded with someone to kiss her. It was as if he'd decimated all her inhibitions and left her shamelessly wanton in his arms. If she recalled correctly, one minute she had been trying to make him understand she wouldn't be so easily seduced into his private quarters, and the next she was practically begging him to have his wicked way with her right there in the snow! She felt relieved Flitwick had shown up. One date with Severus wasn't nearly enough to follow up with a shag session.

Merlin, the possibilities! She knew he detested what-ifs, as he had referred to them, but she couldn't help but contemplate them. What if he had claimed her out in the snow? What if they'd made it to his quarters, and she had woken up in his arms? What if he only wanted such from her, and would be done with her afterward?

_But no,_ she reasoned. _His words…_ Oh, his sexy, gruff words… _"You don't know how long I've waited for you,"_ he'd said, and she'd felt her body completely betray her and offer him everything. She doubted any female in their right mind could resist that phrase from so complex a man while he worshipped her with his lips. She felt heady with the thought of it.

Hermione had grown up being independent and headstrong. During the war, she'd learned to develop an intense amount of self-control, something that was needed on her many assignments. She figured that was why she and Ronald hadn't stayed together. As much as he appreciated who she was, his upbringing instilled in him the need for a little wifey who stayed home, was submissive and took care of their children. This, she'd told him, may work for other witches, but not for her. She needed to make a difference in the world, and with her decisive manner and determination, she'd become somewhat distanced from things she considered trivial, such as dating or needing a man.

Severus, in a shocking display, shattered those views as well as her stern demeanor. It was obvious he'd made a true effort to shed the dark layers of his past, and she found it so admirable of him. She also found it astonishing he could still be so menacingly sexy. Ginny often referred to her husband as "sex on a stick," but Hermione realized that if anyone fit that description, it was Severus Snape.

Although she had thought to protest when first reading the letter, she admitted to herself that she was powerless to try to resist his invitation of dinner at Hogwarts; she would feel incredibly guilty if she left him to deal with McGonagall's displeasure.

"Hey," Harry demanded her attention again, his head popping over her cubicle wall. "Ginny wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight, but she's caught up with the new pitch design." Harry evidenced disgust at this, and Hermione had to agree with him – the mess over at the Department of Magical Games and Sports had become ultimate chaos with the renovations for the next World Cup.

"Actually, I will be at Hogwarts tonight." She hid her smile as Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"With Snape?" Harry sputtered, shoving his glasses up even higher on his nose.

"With Severus, Minerva, and the rest of the staff, it would seem." She smirked. "By invite of the Headmistress herself." Well, in a roundabout way, she supposed. She was sure Severus wouldn't have invited her to a public dinner unless instructed to do so by a higher authority. No, the way he'd acted the night before last on their date, he desperately wanted her all to himself.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her for a few moments, and then slowly slid down the cubicle wall, where she could hear him situating himself back into his seat.

"You'd best not let Ron find out," he called out to her.

"Let me find out what?" The redhead in question came around the corner of Hermione's cubicle, clutching several files in his hands as he gave her an expectant look.

"Nothing, Ronald." She eyed the paperwork shifting precariously in Ron's arms. "Do you need help?"

Ron, tight-lipped, shook his head and stalked off, struggling with the parchment.

Hermione was the one to peek her head over Harry's cubicle this time, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to glare down at him.

"I have enough to worry about with the upcoming assignment without you adding to it by creating jealousy in Ron," she hissed crossly.

To her surprise, Harry's amused expression turned into one of shock as he stood and gripped her hands over the cubicle wall. He was squinting at her neck, his mouth slightly agape.

"Is that… is that a… a _love nip_?" he whispered incredulously.

Hermione squeaked and reached under her robes to pull the turtleneck high around her throat. "No! Er…" She was blushing furiously; she could feel heat crawl up her neck. She smoothed down her robes and turned from Harry, sitting back down in her chair and ducking her head down to study the papers spread out on her desk.

Harry came charging around the cubicle wall. "Hermione!" he hissed, slapping a hand down on her desk. "As Head of the Auror Office, I demand you explain that mark on your neck!"

Hermione frowned up at him. "You can't use that against me, Harry." She turned back to her work. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to examine this file," she muttered, resting her chin on her hand and staring, unseeingly, at the parchment in front of her.

Harry scoffed. "You've read that so many times you've got it memorized," he said astutely, and grabbed the back of her chair to turn her around. "This isn't like you. You never keep anything from me." He sounded wounded, and Hermione narrowed her eyes; he knew all too well how to make her spill.

"I… bumped into…" She started to say the door, but changed gears at the ridiculous notion of that, and what came out instead was, "Crookshanks."

Harry's eyebrows soared up into his hairline. "Crookshanks, you say?"

"Er… yes." She gulped, and then put on a silly smile. "He was sleeping on my pillow, you see, and when I rolled over on him, he went all… cat-like." She cursed inwardly at the inanity of such a tale, but kept a cool façade. "And scratched me," she added.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a dubious look. "It didn't look much like a scratch," he countered, those green eyes boring into her. "It's a love nip, isn't it? Given to you by none other than that greasy git!" Harry didn't wait for her response, just furiously continued, "And you know, I was actually starting to admire the man, but damned if he's going to put his lips all over you and mark like some Neanderthal…"

Having had enough, Hermione stood and moved into Harry's personal space, poking him in the chest with her index finger.

"Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter!" Her brown eyes threw daggers at him. "Regardless whether you've noticed or not, I'm a grown woman! And I will allow whoever's lips I want to leave a mark! And just so you know, I happen to think you referring to another war hero as 'the greasy git' highly offensive, especially considering I find myself fancying said git!"

By the end of her high-pitched tirade, she was shaking, not out of anger, but at the startling loss of her self-control… again. Her arm dropped, and she plopped back down into her seat, eyes glazed as she stared off into space. She was vaguely aware of Harry gawking at her, but she was so astounded at her outburst she couldn't focus on him.

What if she lost her self-control on her mission? It wouldn't do. This was not healthy for her sanity.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

Harry bent down to pat her shoulder. "No, I'm sorry."

"No, Harry, I… I can't believe I raised my voice to you, I'm sorry!" She put her head in her hands, completely embarrassed.

"But you were right, 'Mione," he told her softly. "You are a grown woman, and I don't have the right…"

"You're my best friend!" she countered, looking up at him. "I know you just care so much, that…"

"That I want to make sure you're okay. But it doesn't give me the right to interrogate you." He looked sheepish. "It is hard to come to grips with, I guess… that you are spending time with Snape. That you… are beginning to fancy him."

Hermione nodded mutely. She was having a hard time of it herself, and it made her angry. She needed to pull her gumption together and use this as good practice for the bracing mission she would undertake in two days' time.

"Promise you won't tell Ron," she said, regarding Harry seriously.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed as he came around the corner behind Harry. "Tell me what?"

Hermione's head jerked up sharply, grimacing. She didn't notice the movement had caused her turtleneck to slip down her neck.

Ron's eyes widened, and to Hermione's horror, he shouted, "Is that a love bite?"

* * *

"Can you not wait until dinner to see her? I'll be escorting her directly to the Great Hall." Severus couldn't disguise the annoyance in his tone. That Minerva insisted on greeting Hermione just outside the castle with him vexed him to no end.

"I think it my responsibility to watch her arrive safely and lift the wards again, since I lowered them to allow her entry!" Minerva strode past him to exit the castle. "Honestly, Severus, you'll have plenty of time with her during dinner."

Severus snarled but followed her out of Hogwarts. He found it disgustingly ironic that Minerva was giving him such a speech, when she'd been in contact with Hermione over the last four years and he had not; and yet she was the one claiming he was selfish, when he'd only gone out with her once. Women, he decided, utterly baffled him.

They waited only two minutes before a loud crack broke out, and Hermione appeared a few feet away from the doors to the castle. She situated her robes before approaching them with a dazzling smile.

"Hermione!" Minerva exclaimed, and rushed to wrap her arms around the young woman.

"Thanks for the invite via Severus, Minerva," Hermione said, amusement evident in her tone. She pulled away and turned to Severus, smiling softly. "Hello, Severus."

"Good evening, Hermione." Whereas he had been agitated before, his voice was now silken, his eyes glittering as they swept the length of her body. He stepped forward and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow without hesitation, her eyes never wavering from his.

Minerva walked with them at Hermione's other side, speaking excitedly. "The other night you mentioned your new assignment. You must tell me all the details."

Hermione's head fell back as she laughed, and Severus was captivated by the sight, totally drawn in by the warmth flowing out of her. "Now, you know I can't do that! But I can tell you about the new renovations for the Quidditch World Cup!"

Severus wasn't listening to a word being said; he was instead fully focused on the love bite barely peeking out from under the stylish scarf Hermione wore. He grinned wolfishly, perversely pleased at the sight.

Minerva entered the Great Hall before them, and Severus stopped short, pulling Hermione back. She glanced askance at him, a puzzled smile on her face at his savage expression.

"You look positively delectable this evening," he whispered to her, his dark head dipping so that his lips skimmed across her jaw. His hand came up to her neck, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the sleek material of her scarf. "I especially enjoy this particular… accessory." They both knew he wasn't taking about the scarf, but rather the mark it was covering up.

Hermione raised a brow at him and pushed his hand away. "Harry and Ron almost put me in a Full-Body Bind to stop me from coming when they saw it." Her voice was breathless, even though she was chastising him.

"Don't have me believe you didn't enjoy it at the time," he retorted, stepping away from her.

Hermione didn't answer, and infuriated him even further by simply walking past him to enter the Great Hall. He followed, but suddenly regretted having met her at the entrance. Not only had it been for naught, as he hadn't been able to have private words with her, it had him entering a room full of curious students, watching him follow probably the most beautiful woman they'd ever seen. They were whispering excitedly to one another, their eyes shifting from his foreboding form to Hermione's sweetly swaying shape. He wasn't pleased to see some seventh year students regarding her with a different kind of interest all together – he scowled at them as he passed.

Minerva clapped her hands and stepped in front of the High Table, while Severus led Hermione to her seat in between them. He was pleased most of her former professors were still so surprised at her appearance that they hadn't been able to properly greet her.

"Before we begin dinner, I'd like to have you all aware of the fact that we have a very important war hero joining us tonight: Hermione Granger!" The Hall erupted in cheers, and everyone, including Severus, gave Hermione a standing ovation. She balked as Minerva quieted them and ended with, "I therefore expect you to be on your best behavior!"

Severus smirked as he seated himself next to Hermione, and food appeared in front of them. It occurred to him that he was relieved Minerva had only ordered the students to behave… because on this night, Severus Snape had no intention whatsoever of behaving.


	5. Proposing Pleasures

* * *

If someone had told Hermione before the war – or even after it, for that matter, regardless that she'd saved him – that she would one day be snogging Severus Snape most thoroughly (in his private quarters, no less), she would've told them they were barmy… and then probably hexed them. But as she stood in the arms of Severus before a roaring fire, kissing him with more passion that she'd ever felt in her entire life, the idea didn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

For the second night that week, Hermione had experienced a wonderful dinner with pleasant company. Severus, she thought, had been very generous in letting the other professors monopolize her attention during the meal. She should've known the reason behind that was he fully intended to occupy her attention later.

Minerva was delighted to see her back at Hogwarts as an adult, and even suggested that, had Hermione not become an Auror, she would've done well as part of the staff. All the professors wanted to know about the particulars of her occupation, but she told them only bits that wouldn't compromise her upcoming mission. Meanwhile, several brave students had approached the High Table, begging politely for her autograph. She had vaguely wished Harry had come along so that he could take the brunt of the spotlight. But she thought that surely, if Harry had joined them, Severus wouldn't be as free as he was to drink his fill of her.

Each time she glanced at him during dinner, expecting him to want her undivided attention, he simply smirked, raised a dark brow, and sent her a look of unbridled lust – to which she promptly blushed and turned away from.

After, he'd allowed her to bid the entire staff goodnight, and then pretended to accompany her to the castle doors.

"But perhaps," he'd murmured deliciously against her ear, sending chills up her spine, "you'd like to come back to my quarters for a while." Trying not to melt at the suggestion, she'd taken his arm and allowed him to lead the way to his domain, all the while heat infusing her face.

Her anxiety had all but disappeared upon entering his sitting room, which housed shelves upon shelves of books. Her eyes had lit up, and she had surged forward to examine all that was before her, an appreciative smile on her face. He had almost as many books as she did! Of course, as she had scanned his collection, her smile had faltered a little at seeing so many books about the Dark Arts, but she had remained fascinated.

Severus had thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Hermione in his quarters. But, as much as he had taken pleasure in watching her lovingly caress the spines of his books, her face radiating delight, he had had other plans for them. Moving determinedly towards her, his arms had snaked their way around her waist, and pulled her back against him, while his nimble fingers had divested her of her robes with deft movements.

And so it was that they were now entwined in each other's arms, their mouths and bodies pressed firmly together. Severus' hands traveled the length of her back, down to her bum, then back up again, over and over until she was gasping into his mouth. Her wrists were locked against the nape of his neck, and her fingers twirled the ends of his hair as she tilted her head to deepen their kiss. His hands traveled back down to her bum again, and he rested them there, pressing her lower half closer to his. He gently thrust his arousal against her pubic bone, and her head fell back as she moaned softly. With one of his hands still massaging her rounded bottom, he fisted his other hand in her curls and held her head while he nibbled her jaw, her lips, and kissed her nose. Hermione responded by tracing his lips with her tongue, then thrusting the well-worked muscle back into his mouth, and grabbing his hand to hold him firmly in place while she snogged him senseless.

She rocked against him as he tore the scarf away from her neck, and laved the entire expanse of her silky throat.

"Severus…" Hermione whispered breathlessly, spurring him on. He tugged at the top of her dress, exposing more of her cleavage, which he attacked with delicious nips.

"Shall we move this to the bedroom?" he murmured against her skin, his voice hoarse with desire. His talented hands were sliding down the expanse of her torso again, down to her thighs, almost to her knees, where he clenched his fists in the fabric of her dress. Hermione couldn't breathe as his hands moved back up, taking her dress with them, and he groaned against her breast at the feel of the silky flesh of her thighs. The sound was more of an aphrodisiac to Hermione than dark chocolate, but it also snapped her out of her haze of passion.

She was acting like some wanton tramp! Granted, his voice and his lips, his hands and his tongue were magical, and could probably make the coldest of witches warm, but it unnerved her. She wouldn't mind eventually joining Severus in his bedroom, but she felt giving in so early wouldn't do either of them any good. What if he didn't want to see her anymore after he'd uncovered all her secrets? Then again, what if he didn't want to see her anymore if she turned him down? And furthermore, why in the world did in matter? The man was a git, a Slytherin… a wonderfully erotic, sinfully talented…

"Severus," she managed to say, more forcefully this time. She pushed at his shoulders, and he lifted his head, standing at his full height to glare down at her. Gulping delicately, she muttered, "I should probably leave."

Severus raised a brow whilst trying not to pant, his hands dropping the fabric he was clenching, and instead moving to squeeze her waist. "I didn't quite catch that, I'm afraid."

Summoning up her courage, she said, "It's late, I should probably leave." She glanced up from beneath her lashes at him hesitantly, gauging what his reaction would be.

It took all of his power, but Severus stepped away from her, his hands dropping to his sides. "I see." His jaw was set, his eyes glaring a hole into the floor. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, the hardness of his throbbing cock, and the hurt anger welling up inside him.

"It's not that I… well, that I want to leave." She nibbled at her lower lip, which was slightly sore from the intense round of snogging they'd just engaged in. "I just need to be fully rested for my mission, you see. It starts the day after tomorrow." Part of it was true, though she decided mentioning her disconcertion would not be a good idea. Seeing that he was still stiff and that a muscle was ticking rapidly in his clenched jaw, she moved forward and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry…"

Severus grabbed hold of her wrist and gazed down at her feverishly. "Are you toying with me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione frowned and blinked, slightly stung at his caustic question. Irritated at him but not willing to let the magnificent night end in such a manner, she used her other hand to cup his cheek. "I wouldn't do that, Severus… and it's Hermione, remember?" He still had her wrist in a vice-like grip, but his eyes closed at the feel of her hand on his face. His strong jaw was clenched against the palm of her hand. "I really enjoy being with you," she told him, wanting to assure him she was still very interested, just nervous.

His eyes opened and he regarded her inquisitively for several long seconds, before he released her wrist. "My apologies," he murmured. "Come, I'll escort you out." He retrieved her robes from the floor, and helped her into them. He then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her from his quarters, though he didn't speak to her as they walked. She could feel the tension radiating off his body, and felt exceedingly guilty.

He opened the front doors for her, and led her outside. She turned at her Apparating Point and looked up at him with a hesitant smile. "Thank you for the pleasant evening, Severus," she said softly. "I wish to… continue having pleasant evenings with you, after my mission. If that's acceptable to you." She tried to convey with her eyes how much she relished being in his presence.

"I think you know, Hermione, that it is very acceptable to me." He smirked at her, and she felt relieved. As had become customary for him, he reached for her hand and conveyed it to his lips, brushing a kiss along her knuckles.

She Apparated, leaving him alone in the snow.

* * *

His cock was as hard as a bloody diamond, and it was pure agony to stride down the halls of Hogwarts in such a state. He tried not to turn into a brooding wreck as he returned to his quarters, but it was nearly impossible. He thought he had finished struggling with his emotions the night before, but those cursed insecurities were creeping back up on him. He pushed them away swiftly, remembering the way Hermione had reacted to his ministrations. That he could turn the level-headed young woman into a gasping, wanton creature in his arms gave him confidence. She categorically wanted him… But she had halted their pleasure before it had even really begun. And for the first time, it suddenly dawned on him that she might be a little insecure, herself.

How foolish he was not to consider how she might be feeling! In his need to possess her, to make her his with his desperate hopes that she wouldn't become another Lily and leave him, he'd overlooked her emotions. She had assured him she wanted to continue seeing him, despite pushing him away in his quarters. He wondered what could be holding her back, and then felt ridiculous. She had a very important assignment coming up, and surely her nerves were already frayed without him turning her upside down with desire– he grinned at the thought with pure masculine pride.

Perhaps he could find a way to help her with her mission, in between teaching and his patrols. He didn't know the details of it, or how long it would take her to complete it, but he didn't want to wait until such a time to see her again.

_Yes,_ he thought with smugness he hadn't felt in a long time, _I'll visit her tomorrow with my proposal to help._ For now, he had to find a way to tame his raging sexual appetite, and forget the feel of her soft thighs.


	6. Choreographing Trusts

* * *

Hermione turned up the stereo as she and Ginny danced around her flat, getting it ready for the mission. She was humbled her friend had chosen to spend her well-earned day off helping her get ready for the upcoming assignment. All personal things were removed, such as photos of Hermione when she was younger, or pictures from just mere weeks ago, when she hadn't been nearly as good-looking. Hermione gazed down at the image of her former self, stroking the photo idly. She missed her old appearance, truth be told. She didn't like the attention she received due to her makeover… well, unless that attention was coming from one Severus Snape. But that thought made her bite her lip. Would she return to her former appearance after the mission if it meant he wouldn't have any further interest in her? But he'd told her he valued her intelligence…

Ginny danced by Hermione and smacked her arse, making Hermione jump and squeak. She leveled a mock glare at her friend, then smirked and shimmied over to the box they were placing the frames in as the music boomed throughout the flat. Luckily, it was the middle of the day, and they had every right to be playing the music.

Hermione would always be a bookworm, but she'd come to love letting loose every once in a while. In fact, if she and Ginny were alone, she couldn't resist. The young redhead was refreshingly carefree, and it was contagious. Ginny had even managed to get Hermione out to a dancing club once, and despite the obnoxious grinding and lewd men breathing down her neck, she'd enjoyed it. It was hard not to, with Ginny's exuberance. Not to mention… a few drinks. Hermione grinned at the thought of going back, and taking Severus as her date. Ginny and Harry often went dancing, and she thought she'd like to know what it was like to have a proper partner with which to do some obnoxious grinding of her own.

"This too?" Ginny questioned over the music, and held up an old picture of Viktor Krum holding Crookshanks with a disgruntled look on his face while the half-Kneazle purred and rubbed his head all over the Bulgarian wizard's robes. Hermione laughed and nodded, then shook her head as she turned back to the wall she was working on. She wasn't sure why she'd kept the picture, but she did so love the memories of Hogwarts and the pre-war activities. But as an idea popped into her mind, she raised a brow and turned back to Ginny.

"Wait… that could prove useful. The wizard I'm after, he attended Durmstrang." As if Ginny wasn't already privy to the details. Harry could rarely keep anything from his wife. Hermione forged ahead thoughtfully. "Maybe he would like seeing Krum's picture, you think?" She frowned over the possibility, and decided to ask Harry at a later time. "Just leave it up for now." It was on her bookshelf, which now held several questionable books on Dark Arts that were sure to entice her assignment. Two of his biggest inclinations were pretty witches and Dark Arts, the file said.

Spinning 'round in a practiced turn that fanned out her long red hair, Ginny faced the stereo and pressed the "next" button, and the song changed to a particular favorite of Hermione's. She nodded happily at her friend and commenced a languid gyration of her hips, as did Ginny, while they made the finishing changes to her flat.

It was this boisterous noise that greeted a baffled Severus as he approached the door to Hermione's flat, after having Apparated in across the street. He pulled a small piece of parchment from his robes and checked the address, and was even more puzzled to realize he was at the correct flat. But he began doubting himself. Perhaps he'd heard Minerva incorrectly, or written down the wrong numbers… But then he heard Hermione's voice from inside, and smirked as he listened to her shout the lines of the song. Hermione's proper English accent as she said the lyrics against the rolling slur of the actual singer made Severus chuckle, even though he was still mystified. Then he heard another voice join in, sounding as if a female were trying to imitate the male in the song. Hermione erupted into laughter, and the other voice joined in, definitely a female. Severus raised a brow and knocked at the door, interested in observing what in the world was going on in Hermione's flat.

Severus knew he shouldn't have been surprised when Hermione's young friend Miss Weasley opened the door – what had he expected, Potter to be there with her? – But still he felt his eyes widening. The redhead was looking up at him with a mischievous expression on her pretty face.

Over the music, he heard Hermione call, "Who is it, Gin?"

Wordlessly, Ginny opened the door fully for Severus, and it unnerved him how she seemed to know why he was there. But all thoughts flew out of his mind as he entered and his eyes fell on Hermione. In the center of the room, facing away from him as she straightened books on a shelf, she was swaying her arse so erotically and enthusiastically that Severus thought he'd become fully hard in a matter of seconds. Her long ponytail swung and bobbed as she moved, the light material of her thin skirt flowing around her body. A bead of sweat rolled down the nape of her neck, making him feel suddenly parched. It seemed his feet had a mind of their own as he began moving toward her, but at the same time, Hermione twirled around with a sexy smile on her face, and he was rooted to the spot. Her face changed, however, at the sight of him in her home, and she rushed quickly to the stereo to turn the music off. They stared at each other for endless seconds, Hermione's eyes wide, Severus' eyes narrowed in lust.

Clearing her throat, Ginny said, "You didn't tell me Professor Snape would be coming by today, Hermione." Her words were chiding, but her tone was incredibly amused. Severus had a feeling Ginny knew everything about what had transpired between them the last few days; she was entirely too smug.

"I… I wasn't aware he was," Hermione countered, her voice a bit husky. She avoided his eyes and wet her lips. Severus felt yet another jolt of lust shoot through his body.

"I wished to offer my assistance on your assignment," Severus managed gruffly. He cleared his throat and smirked as he continued, "But by all means, do not let me get in your way. I believe you were… dancing?" He'd never seen anyone dance like that. He'd never considered it before, but with a sinking feeling that slightly dampened his arousal: he wondered if he was too old for her.

"Actually, we were just finishing up. I need to get home to start dinner." She grinned as Hermione's eyes widened again. "I'll just go fetch my robes." She dashed off down the short hallway.

Hermione swallowed uneasily. "Er… I'll be right back." She turned and followed after her friend, leaving Severus standing in the middle of the room. He crossed to the bookcase and ran his fingers over the spines of her books, pondering the Dark titles he found there. His ears perked as he heard conversation coming through the thin walls of the flat.

"I should have never told you!" Hermione's outraged voice.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. He's here to be alone with you, and I know that's what you really want! Aren't you looking forward to not having snow or Flitwick stopping him this time?" He heard the redhead laugh almost manically, and smirked at Hermione's answering groan.

Both women came barreling out of the bedroom and Ginny waved to him as she passed him on her way to the door. Hermione came up behind her, tried to grab her arm, but Ginny evaded her grasp and exited.

"Bye!" she called cheerfully, before the door slammed shut in Hermione's face.

Severus was only too glad to finally be alone with Hermione once again. The image of her moving so provocatively was still burned into his brain, and he found himself wishing she would turn the music back on and show him the dance again – a private performance. Instead of suggesting such, he gestured around the flat with a flick of his wrist. "Quite a nice luxury flat you've acquired," he praised, his eyes resting on her back.

Hermione slowly turned to face him, leaning back against the door as she blushed. "What are you doing here?" she questioned softly, and her eyes finally met his. For such a luxury flat, she suddenly felt as though there was no space in the room at all. Her parents had offered to contribute towards getting her a bigger flat, but she'd turned them down; now, she wished she'd taken them up on it. She felt as though she couldn't breathe properly with Severus looking at her so heatedly.

"As I said," he replied, as he moved toward her slowly. "I simply wish to aid you with your assignment." He came closer still.

"No one can help me with it," she murmured, her body beginning to tingle. Memories of their interactions thus far kept blasting through her mind, and she realized with breathless anticipation that she wanted more.

"Then perhaps I can help you with something else," he suggested with a devilish smile. He had reached her, and his head was slowly dipping forward toward hers.

"Dinner?" Hermione squeaked out, her eyes intent on his lips.

Severus paused in thought, and then nodded. "Dinner, then. But first… this."

And then he was kissing her. His lips took complete possession of hers, first gently, teasingly, but when her hands came up to grasp his shoulders, his kiss turned urgent, passionate. He cupped her face in his hands, holding her still while he plundered her mouth. His tongue probed exquisitely, and she responded by using her tongue to stroke his. His kisses were her undoing, always. Her inhibitions left, her insecurities and her worries fled in the wake of his dominant hunger.

When both of their stomachs rumbled in unison in a different kind of hunger altogether, they pulled back, both laughing softly against each other's mouths.

Hermione peered up at him, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest. "You'll help me with dinner, then?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes."

* * *

It was pleasing to him that they could move around each other in her kitchen so effortlessly. They worked well together, and he found himself wanting to come up with research ideas for potions projects, and ask her to be his assistant. It was silly, it was fanciful, but it appealed to him. If they could do something as domestic as preparing a meal together, he imagined they would come together beautifully on other things, as well.

The ease with which they conversed additionally gave him hope. Hope that she would come to accept that he would have her, not just one time but many times, making her part of his life; making it a nightly ritual to cook dinner together, to tell each other anecdotes about their day. He'd never opened up so much to a person in his life, and he found some kind of inexplicable freedom in it. To be honest, he couldn't see himself doing this with anyone else but Hermione.

But it was her turn to open up. He knew she was self-conscious, but dammit, so was he, and he would have their relationship be one of equal give and take.

Randomly cutting into her discussion on the newest political debate in the Wizarding community, he said, "I saw the Dark books. Which means your assignment is a Dark wizard." He watched her stop stirring the sauce for their pasta, her beautiful tawny eyes widening. "I might know him, which means I could provide information. Which means I could help." He imparted his point with emphasis, his eyes boring into hers.

"Severus…" Hermione murmured, beginning to slowly stir the sauce once more.

Irritated, he forced out between clenched teeth, "Do you not trust me?"

She sighed, placed the wooden spoon on the counter, and turned to him. "I do trust you, Severus. It's just…"

"I find it hard to believe that you trust me. You pull away from me; you refuse to tell me of your work." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I deserve your trust. I've given you more than I've ever given another person."

Speechless, Hermione stared up at him. They'd never discussed feelings, and she found it incredible that Severus was the one to bring them up. But all he'd said was spot-on, and she felt she was in the wrong for holding back from him. Would Harry forgive her for telling the man she was… dating – if that's what it could be called – details about a top-secret mission? Could she trust him with such things? She knew that if she trusted him in one aspect, she'd trust him in another. She'd lower her walls that made her so strong, just for him. It was terrifying, but as she held his gaze, she realized she wanted it. She wanted a trusting relationship with him, and damn the consequences.

"Since you've gathered that my assignment involves a Dark wizard, you've probably also garnered that my new appearance has something to do with it, as well." She bit her lip before continuing, which gave Severus time to think. He hadn't put the two together, that her new appearance was _for_ the Dark wizard… not just for the undercover part of the mission. "It's said that Demyan Makarovin likes his women flawlessly beautiful and shockingly bold. It's my job to be that woman, and get as much as I can on him. Enough to cart him off to Azkaban, as it were." She sighed, her nerves on end at the thought as they had been since Harry had assigned her the mission weeks ago, and picked up the wooden spoon to stir the sauce again.

A chill ran down Severus' spine, one he couldn't explain. He knew that name, Demyan Makarovin. Being so high up on Voldemort's chain, he'd taken care of several correspondences, and the name was eerily familiar to him.

"He had connections to the Dark Lord," Severus told her, and nudged her to the side to extract the garlic bread from the oven.

"We know. We think he's up to something; there have been traces of Dark magic in the area, and knowing he was a former supporter of Voldemort, we decided to close in on him. We only need evidence." She willed her anxiety to get under control. She could do this. She was a well-qualified Auror, for goodness sake.

"You must use caution, Hermione." He sliced the bread precisely, not willing to look at her. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but damned if he didn't wish to abduct her and keep her away from the imminent danger. He gritted his teeth. Surely there were other female Aurors qualified to take on this kind of assignment? But he knew, without a doubt, that Hermione was the best of the best. Especially in the form of a seductive temptress. His thoughts inadvertently strayed to her dance moves.

"I'm fully aware I must use caution, thanks very much." Her voice wavered even as she uttered the bold statement. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. "I am… tense, but I feel confident I can do this."

Severus' gaze snapped to the top of her bowed head, and he discarded the knife he was using to slice the bread so that he could step behind her and place his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "You should feel confident," he assured her, his head dropping forward so that his lips brushed her ear. "You've prepared for this. You're ready." His hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, and came to rest at her waist, and he turned her to face him. "You could possibly use more practice in the 'shockingly bold' department, however." One side of his mouth tipped up in a sexy smirk, and his hands massaged her waist enticingly.

Hermione smiled and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I think you're bold enough for both of us," she murmured, and was lifting on tiptoe to press a kiss to his sinfully luscious lips when the timer on the stove signaled the pasta was ready to be strained. She stepped to the side and turned away from him, much to Severus' chagrin.

Damn, he was frustrated. If he didn't have her soon…

As they seated themselves at her small dining table, Severus attempted to focus on anything other than her soft pink lips closing over her fork. He was painfully aware of each move she made, and could barely enjoy the marvelous meal they'd made together. Forcing himself to remain in control, he asked, "Where did you learn how to dance so… provocatively?" The sight he'd been greeted with upon first arriving at her flat had been surprising in the beginning, but catching Hermione the way he had greatly changed his outlook on such lascivious movements.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I'm afraid Ginny's a bit of a bad influence on me."

Severus smirked and gave her a heated look. "I would say she's been quite a good influence. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to give me a repeat performance." He cocked an eyebrow as he made the suggestion, hoping to duly convince her, even if he wasn't sure he could withstand such temptation.

Of course, she didn't take him seriously. She simply continued eating as if she hadn't heard him, and he changed the subject to how the dunderheads in his classes were getting along. He was done eating before she was, and not just because she was a chatterbox of the worst sort, but because he was eager to move on to his after-dinner seduction. It took much longer for Hermione to finish, but when she did, she stood and gathered their dishes to take to the sink. He was amused at how she displayed her Muggle heritage in small ways; for instance, walking the dishes to the sink, instead of using magic. She surprised him then, when she turned back to the table where he still sat, and he noticed magic was cleaning the dishes and kitchen. He smiled inwardly; perhaps she would ever surprise him.

Hermione reached the table, and rested her hip against the side next to his chair. She smiled down at him. "Did you want dessert? I have some raspberry sorbet in the…" Her voice trailed off as Severus slid a hand up her knee to rest on her thigh.

"I had something else in mind, actually." He reached around her body to clasp her hip, and scooted her to rest in between his legs. He lifted her onto the edge of the table, and moved his chair forward so that he sat right between her legs. He gazed up at her, and laughed deep in his throat at her startled expression. "Relax," he murmured, his incandescent look raising gooseflesh all over her body. He didn't want to move too fast with her, but he couldn't resist this. His eyes never straying from hers, he slowly slid the gauzy material of her dark blue skirt up her thighs, his fingers just barely ghosting over her skin along with the fabric. Her mouth parted in breathless anticipation, her eyelids falling slowly as her eyes glazed with lust. He piled her skirt high at her waist, and held onto her hip with one hand as he splayed the other against the soft flesh of her lower belly and gently pushed her back.

She gasped as she fell back slightly, but caught herself and managed to stay in the reclined position with the help of her ramrod-straight arms. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. She waited for his next move, all too aware of her pounding heart and the persistent ache between her legs. Hermione couldn't seem to register anything but the pleasure of his touch, the scorching heat of his gaze. She had a fair idea of his intent, but even as she felt faintly tense at the idea of allowing him to do more than simply kiss her, she couldn't help but desperately want him to do this.

Startling her, even though she had expected it, he cupped her round bottom in his hands, his fingers curling into her knickers and tugging them down her legs. He bunched them in his hand, and his eyes met hers as he brought them up to his remarkable nose and inhaled sharply before dropping them onto the floor. A fiery craving stoked within him as he studied her lower half; an animalistic baseness roared inside of him as he spotted the wetness glistening on her nether lips. Her chest heaving, her eyes clouded, her pants fanning the end of her ponytail that rested over her shoulder… she was everything he had always desired, and had never been able to have. That she was willing and ready for him to taste her drove him absolutely feral with need.

He rested his hands at her hips, and rubbed circles on her ribcage with his thumbs, watching closely for her reaction. Were he a betting man, he would've bet several Galleons that she wanted it almost as badly as he did. Her eyes were fixed to his lips as if she couldn't endure another moment without them on her body, and he was only too keen to oblige her. He grabbed her just behind her knees, and hauled her to the very edge of the dinner table, he himself already perched on the edge of his seat. He leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to her navel, and swirled his tongue over her lower abdomen, before nibbling down to the delightful little triangle of curls he couldn't resist.

His arms curled under her thighs, and he hoisted her knees up to rest on his shoulders as his hands skimmed over her hipbones. Her belly quivered at the light touch, and her head fell back as his fingers parted her lower lips for full access to her warm, wet heat. His dark head dipped, and then the most exquisite pleasure rolled over her as the tip of his tongue caressed the hard bud of her desire. She shuddered and fell back heavily on her elbows, her thighs clenching around his ears as his tongue stroked her again and again, insistently then gently, driving her mad.

"Severus," she moaned, and didn't even recognize the husky note in her voice. Never had she felt anything like this. It was overwhelming, it was consuming, it was blissful. In that moment she wanted nothing but to be with him, to become his utterly and completely… and to claim him, as well. She felt even more ecstasy at the thought that she might be able to have her own dessert after he was done…

And then his strong, sure tongue was circling her drenched opening, and she could think no more. His tongue delved into her slick entrance over and over, and he was groaning against her flesh, the heavy vibrations adding to the earth-shattering amount of pleasure coursing through her veins. At her sharp cry, signaling her imminent release, he sucked ferociously at her engorged clit, heightening her cry into a scream, and causing her thighs to clench tightly around his head. Severus devoured every bit of her release, lapping at her so fiercely that she tried to writhe away from him. His hands clasped around her thighs and held her steady, and she collapsed back onto the top of the table, her eyes screwed shut against the incredible feelings he stirred.

She was only vaguely aware that he had stopped, so sensitized was her flesh. Only when she heard the chair grating across the floor did she realize he'd risen to loom over her, his face flushed from his efforts, hints of her juices glistening on his nose and chin. She shivered as he laid his hands on either side of her head, and slowly bent so that their torsos aligned. The coarse fabric of his clothes brushed against the sensitive skin of her still-parted thighs.

"That was glorious," she managed in a weak whisper, feeling utterly wonderful even though her elbows were sore from the pressure they'd endured. She hesitantly reached up to twine her arms around his neck; her fingers traced idle patterns on his nape while they stared at each other.

"You are delicious," Severus murmured, and bowed his head to kiss her gently, as if trying to let her taste for herself just how delicious she truly was.

Hermione held tightly onto his shoulders and summoned all of her courage to look him in the eye as she queried softly, "And what about you?"

His nostrils flared as he understood what she was asking. He cupped her cheeks as he stared down at her intensely. Through gritted teeth, he said, "It's only about you, Hermione." He didn't want to make her feel like she was required to reciprocate. He wanted it with every fiber of his being, but he'd been trying to consider her feelings…

"But Severus," she protested, as her foot began a brazen trek up and down the back of one of his legs, "I'd like to… to…" She bit her lower lip, causing him to groan. His forehead dropped to rest against hers, and she took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to taste you, as well." She turned and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Won't you let me?"

It was his undoing. Her sweet plea was like the most heavenly music to his ears, and his cock throbbed painfully in his trousers at the thought of her succulent little mouth wrapped around him. He eased both of them up off her dining table, even though he was burning to do more. He hoisted her up and her legs wrapped about his waist; he had to close his eyes and focus for a moment on what he was doing, before he moved purposefully toward her living room. He didn't pause when they reached her sofa, but settled himself down on it and immediately tugged her down to lay on top of him.

"Yours for the taking, mistress," Severus informed her, a teasing note of dark sensuality in his voice. He folded his arms behind his head and waited to see what she would do, even though his overwhelming urge was to grab her head and thrust into her mouth.

Hermione pulled back so that she was kneeling in between his long legs, and pondered for a moment how to go about pleasing him, something she wanted to do to the fullest extent. The amount of buttons on his attire was ridiculous, and she immediately thought undoing them would be better accomplished with her wand. As if guessing her thoughts, Severus smirked and extracted his own ebony wand from within the arm of his jacket. She smiled shyly and made to grab it, but he held it away and she fell onto his chest and torso. Amusement and desire shining in the onyx depths of his eyes, he shoved a hand into her hair, and freed the honey-brown locks so they fell around her face. Appeased, he gave the wand to her, and raised an expectant brow.

Settling back between his legs, she quietly cast her spell, and his many buttons began loosening, one by one. As his black jacket opened, the spell then turned to the white shirt beneath, and she gazed appreciatively at the skin it revealed. His pale chest was smattered here and there with black hair, and the edges of his shirt rested just barely over his nipples. A trail of hair started below his belly button, and disappeared into his trousers, which were now unbuttoning themselves, as well. Hermione eased the edges of his shirt and jacket away, and couldn't help but lean into him and flick her tongue over one of his nipples. She kissed, nibbled, and licked, and smiled against his chest when her ministrations were met with an appreciative grunt and a hand at the back of her head. Encouraged, she kissed down his torso to the hair on his abdomen, but paused when she felt something graze her chin. Pulling back, she stared down at Severus' proudly erect prick, glistening at the head, all swollen and red. She knew her eyes had widened considerably, but she couldn't help but stare in awe at his hardened flesh. She reached out and slid her forefinger down his shaft from top to bottom on the underside, and his whole body jerked in response. Without really knowing what she was doing, or why she was so eager to do it, she bent her head and took him into her mouth.

Never in his life had Severus felt such ecstasy; the feel of this witch's mouth around him made his bloody toes curl, something he hadn't even thought was possible. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders to rest in between them, and Merlin, the ends were brushing his sac so delicately he thought he'd fell off the roof if he released the roar he was struggling to contain. Not able to help himself, his hands came up to rest on her head, threaded into that lovely mane of hers, and guided her lips on his straining cock.

He could tell she hadn't done such a thing often, but she was sucking him off with such fervor, and he'd been so painfully aroused for the last week since he'd finally found her, that his climax took him by surprise. He did roar then, shuddering as he came into her hot mouth, and was undone by how eagerly she devoured his seed. He stroked her face, her hair, and her shoulders as he came down from his high, as her lips gentled on him.

And suddenly, Hermione couldn't breathe as the reality of her situation came crashing down on her. She'd never had such a gratifyingly intimate experience in her life, had never felt that someone was so right for her, that she wanted to be claimed and claim him in return. But it would all end the next day, when her assignment commenced; the assignment in which she had to seduce a Dark wizard for information that could help the Wizarding world. How could she do such a thing, after she'd just shared something so sacred with Severus, who she'd felt down to the very core of her being?

She sat back on her heels as tears came to her eyes, her hands coming up to cover her face. What in Merlin's name had she gotten herself into? She was usually more in control than this… she was usually so solid…

"Hermione?" Severus sat up, buttoning his trousers as he did so. "What is it?" His voice was filled with concern, and not only for her. If he had disappointed her in some way, if she felt he'd forced her, or used her, and turned him away… he wouldn't be able to bear it. Gingerly, he eased his legs from around her and righted himself on the sofa, inching just fractionally closer to her.

Hermione couldn't answer him, mortified at how an unyielding reality had decimated one of the most indelible evenings she'd ever encountered. If only they had gotten involved after her mission, if only she could get her self-control back...

"I'm sorry," she murmured between her fingers, reluctant to look at him. "This has been undeniably wonderful, Severus, I just can't believe…"

Severus frowned and grasped her upper arms, willing her to meet his gaze. She didn't. "You can't believe what?" He didn't want to revert into his old self, but his defenses were what kept him safe. "Can't believe you sucked off the old greasy git?"

She gasped and met his eyes then, and he felt instantly contrite at seeing her cinnamon eyes overflowing with tears. "That's unfair, Severus." She sniffled, tried to hold it in, but a ragged sob escaped her, and, completely embarrassed, she rose from the sofa and hurried toward the hallway bathroom. But before she could reach her safe haven, he caught her elbow and swung her around to face him.

"I apologize," he murmured softly, and embraced her, ignoring her feeble protests. His lips brushed over her furrowed brow, as he sought a way to make her comprehend his defensive demeanor. "I don't want it to be me." His voice cracked, and he cursed inwardly at his weakness, hoping she wouldn't think less of him, or be disgusted.

Hermione understood his cryptic statement, but couldn't fathom her overwhelming need to restore confidence in him. She was so stressed she could barely see straight, and yet, through all of it, she wanted to reassure him. "It's not you," she whispered, and hid her face against his chest, where his jacket and shirt were still undone. "I don't want to seduce another man… I don't want to be with him the way I was with you." Her voice was small, child-like, even though her words were those of an adult.

Severus stiffened, and his arms tightened around her. His voice was hard and uncompromising when he said, "You will not."

She became rigid, as well, and pulled back as much as she could with his steel-hard arms holding her tight. She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's what the job entails," she retorted, her voice almost devoid of emotion.

"I wasn't making empty offers when I told you I wanted to help. I can take care of him, and you won't even have to be involved." His tone matched the menacing look on his face, sending uneasy chills down her spine.

Hermione jerked away from him and glared. "I wasn't even supposed to tell you anything about my assignment! And now you're making assumptions that I need – or want – your help?" She hated being so harsh. His offer to take care of it for her was all too tempting, but she was a strong, self-sufficient woman, damn him, and she would handle it. "The only reason I am feeling so overwrought is because you came storming into my life and planted yourself so ruthlessly into my heart!" she accused, her fists clenched at her sides.

Her words sank into both of them at the same time. As infuriated as he had been at her earlier words, the end of her tirade jolted him into a different place altogether.

"Your heart?" He couldn't resist the faint smirk that graced his lips, but immediately regretted it at her next outburst.

"Get out." Her face was a stoic mask, one that would give his own visage a run for its money. He started to speak, but she held up a hand and didn't meet his eyes as she repeated, tonelessly, "Get out." She closed her eyes briefly and added, "Now."

Severus could feel the fury swirling inside him; not necessarily at the young, emotional witch in front of him, but at the circumstances they found themselves in. He stood there waiting for her to change her mind, or burst into tears, but she didn't, only waited with arms folded across her chest for him to withdraw. He knew she would break down after he left. He could sense the turmoil in her, so reminiscent of his own. He knew he couldn't leave her unaided in the mission, whether Potter or anyone else disagreed. And dammit, he wanted her trust, craved it even more than her delectable body.

Knowing he would have a better time of it convincing her tomorrow, he turned and stalked toward the door. "I won't leave you to do this alone," were his last words as he departed into the night.


	7. Ensnaring Attentions

* * *

The name of the Dark wizard Hermione had been assigned to had haunted Severus all through the night. Demyan Makarovin sounded so eerily familiar, and yet he must not have played too big a part in Voldemort's various quests for power, otherwise Severus would know who he was straightaway. Still, he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he imagined Hermione getting that close to a madman. It wasn't that he underestimated her stellar capabilities or talent; it was that he feared Potter, as well as Hermione, underestimated Makarovin's.

Severus tried desperately to put all lustful thoughts about the witch he was pursuing out of his mind, and focus solely on how he was going to convince her to let him help, as well as just how he could be of help. It proved difficult, as he had always had a sweet tooth, and Hermione certainly had been the best dessert he'd ever sampled. But he realized there was a very real chance that, if Makarovin discovered Hermione was an undercover agent, the consequences could prove so dire that Severus would never be able to taste her again – and that focused him so intently that he became highly creative with what he could do to help.

His first idea had encompassed what he knew best: Potions. He could take a sip of Polyjuice Potion infused with the essence of Hermione, and deal with the wizard in her form. But he promptly discarded the idea, considering it would take a month to brew Polyjuice; not to mention, he would have to keep imbibing it hourly, no doubt while in the presence of Makarovin, which would surely raise suspicion.

The next idea, though not tactful, would certainly relieve him immensely: He could just locate Makarovin before Hermione even moved in on the Dark wizard, and render the man incapable for the rest of his days. But he was fairly certain he'd be tempted to silence Makarovin permanently, an impulse Severus hadn't felt in a long time – further proof that his little witch was tying him up in knots. Best he didn't go that route anyway; Hermione would ascertain Severus had something to do with it, and she'd be most displeased, putting him in the proverbial doghouse.

If he could just get his hands on any document that proved Makarovin had been involved with the Dark Lord, the Aurors would have all the proof they needed to condemn the wizard and send him to Azkaban. However, that would prove even more difficult than persuading Hermione to let him help at all. Documents among Death Eaters were few and far between, because it was so detrimental to have such things lying around. Severus knew of one document that Lucius Malfoy possessed, a rare slip-up from the Dark Lord that could be the downfall of several Dark wizards who'd escaped the final battle, Lucius himself being one. He had kept it in case he needed to blackmail anyone in the future, and Severus knew the blonde-haired Pureblood wouldn't let him see it; Lucius was disgusted by the revelation of Severus' double agent role, even though he himself hadn't shown loyalty to either side in the end.

He wasn't sure how much more inventive he could get. Perhaps if he could talk to Potter, and gain his trust, Severus could convince the Boy Who Lived Twice to utilize him, instead of Hermione, under the guise of a still-faithful Dark wizard who wanted to align himself with Makarovin. But if he went to Potter with knowledge of the mission, he would surely get Hermione into deep trouble – even if the Head Auror was her best friend – and she had trusted him so deeply by giving him information on her assignment in the first place. In addition to that arresting fact, he knew Potter would never trust him as Hermione did, and never let him participate in a top secret Auror mission.

Frustrated beyond belief in both body and mind, all because of one rather elusive witch, he succumbed to sleep mere hours before dawn. His dreams were vivid and chilling. He was with Hermione in her flat, making love to her, when Dark wizards started coming out of the woodwork, hurling spell after spell upon their naked bodies until they died in each other's arms. He awoke with soaking wet hair, his body twisted in the sheets… and a determination that would make a Gryffindor proud.

After showering and dressing for the day in his accustomed black, he strode to his desk and grabbed quill and parchment. His note was short, simple, and for some reason, he was confident the witch he wrote to would sympathize and help him.

It was well into the morning by the time he received her response, and he smirked as he read the parchment, which simply read, "Noon at Fortescue's." He'd known Potter's young, romantic wife wouldn't let him down; not after the way she'd encouraged Hermione when they'd thought he couldn't hear them.

He'd decided, after waking from his nightmare, that for now he'd simply help Hermione by keeping watch over her. She'd be indignant, of course, but he didn't care one bit – he was going to protect her, and if that meant following her and Makarovin all day long, so be it. Of course, this would become a problem once the weekend was over. He'd have to convince Flitwick to trade patrols with him and stay up all night grading essays… but he couldn't leave her alone in this.

His eyes flicked swiftly over the location where Hermione's assignment would commence today. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor had reopened just last year in Diagon Alley, the deceased owner's nephew deciding to keep it open in memory of his uncle. He pondered why Hermione would be there, starting her mission, and quickly deduced that the Aurors must have foreknowledge of Makarovin being in Diagon Alley. He considered it quite a bit of a chance, but he knew if anyone could pull it off, it'd be his clever witch.

Noon was rapidly approaching by the time he finished grading a stack of Third Year essays, and they had been acceptable enough that he wasn't feeling completely daft as he retrieved his robes and set off for the Apparation point. He had briefly considered simply Flooing to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, a place he'd purchased reliable Potions ingredients from for years – the same place the students bought most of their ingredients for Hogwarts – but recalled it was situated close to Fortescue's, and he couldn't hazard Hermione catching him. Thankfully, he had enough time to enter from the Muggle London side into the Leaky Cauldron, and then into Diagon Alley.

He was more filled out than he used to be, slightly more muscled since he'd become the Defense professor; they practiced drills that involved exercise of the body as well as the mind, and Severus, especially, was on his feet and swooping around even more than he had as a Potions master. His hair had grown just a bit longer, as well. He surmised it was a combination of these things that kept some from recognizing him. He was nearly halfway down the cobbled alley before he found himself being approached by parents of one of his Slytherin students, conducting themselves more like Hufflepuffs than Slytherins. They were disconcertingly bubbly, and rather enthusiastic about running into him. He strove to be discreet and still remain polite, and thanked them for their appreciation of his role in the war.

It was when he looked up once he began moving again that he spotted the long, luscious waves of Hermione's hair, and as he came around further, the rest of her delectable body. He reclined against the bricks in between Potage's Cauldron Shop and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, observing her with narrowed eyes. She was leaning back in a patio chair at Fortescue's, her dainty feet propped up on a chair opposite her showcasing strappy scarlet heels that matched her crimson robes. Said robes had fallen open over the sides of the chair – looking a little too deliberate to him – to reveal the body he so desired barely encased in a black sheath dress. He felt his mouth water as he watched her hold a cone in one hand, and provocatively lick a long trail of ice cream onto her tongue, her eyes intense.

It was at that moment he saw him. Demyan Makarovin, the Dark wizard he'd been trying to recall all this time. He recognized the bastard instantly. Voldemort had recruited all manner of creatures into his camp, including vampires… and Demyan Makarovin had been the first vampire to come to Voldemort, salivating for power. He'd done unspeakable things in front of the Death Eaters to helpless victims in his bid for Voldemort's approval, things that made Severus queasy even as he recollected them.

Hermione had caught the vampire's eye, and Makarovin was closing in on her, even as Severus watched with a suddenly pounding heart. There was nothing he could do as the wizard approached her, and engaged her in conversation.

Just then, two ginger heads leaned out of one of the doors to the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop… the founders themselves, and yelled, "Wotcher! Professor Snape, we thought it was you!"

Fearing discovery, he sneered at them even as his head snapped in Hermione's direction. She had risen from her seat, and her hand was extended toward Makarovin. He was kissing her knuckles, her wrist, and even inhaled her scent as Severus watched…

Looking up, Hermione's eyes met his. She was startled, and gasped, and Severus saw Makarovin's head tilt in question. Before he could be seen by the Dark wizard, Severus ducked into the joke shop, past the confused twins, and breathed deeply.

His witch was in the hands of a monster.

* * *

Hermione recovered quickly, plastering her practiced sexy smile back onto her face, thanking God and Merlin she'd even cared to rehearse such a shallow expression. At the time, she'd been amused by Ronald's weak-kneed reaction to her enticing smile, but now, she was simply grateful for it; she'd managed to direct Makarovin's attention back solely on her, which was nerve-wracking, though she was quickly adapting to it. She supposed she should thank Severus later for focusing so much attention on her in the past week, for she had become used to that unnerving, desire-filled gaze that Makarovin was giving her in much volume now; but that was all she would be thanking the obstinate man for.

He had followed her, and drawn attention to himself, nearly ruining her cover! What in Merlin's name had the man been thinking? But she knew the answer to that. She'd seen the rage in him as he'd watched Makarovin fawn over her, even though he had no right to such feelings. How dare he try to champion her? She was an independent woman, bugger it all, and she would handle this herself!

Always the optimist, however, she felt relieved the Weasley twins hadn't seen her in her altered form. She supposed anyone who really knew her as the Weasleys did could deduce that she was Hermione Granger – after all, this guise was just an enhancement of her natural state, expertly made up and hair smoothed. And it would only take one of them to shout, "Hermione!" to top off the damage Severus had almost done. She'd actually managed to center herself this morning after an inspiring pep talk from Harry, and the blasted ex-Potions master had just blown that to hell.

As she strode delicately arm-in-arm with the Dark wizard at her side, she composed herself. She could do this. She'd prepared to the same extent she'd prepared for her tests back in school, to the point of overdoing it. Harry believed in her, Ron believed in her. And, though she was loathe to admit it, she actually, strangely, felt safe knowing Severus was looking out for her. She found that embracing his help, rather than raging against it, was a lot easier to do. In fact… she felt that giddy feeling coming back, the one she encountered when he told her she was beautiful and special.

Shaking it off, she sent Makarovin a heated look as he led her into Knockturn Alley. "Thank you for escorting me," she told him in a husky purr, idly stroking his arm as they walked.

"Of course," the handsome wizard responded, smirking down at her. "I did not anticipate meeting such a beauty after my visit to Gringotts. One named after a goddess, no less. How could I let her escape?" A full-fledged smile broke out across his face then, and Hermione returned it. If she didn't know he was Dark, not to mention a former supporter of Voldemort, perhaps she might have found him attractive. Or maybe the real reason she didn't appreciate his attributes so much was that she was falling for Severus.

"I used to hate my name," she replied, referring to the alias she'd supplied him with: Persephone. Harry had thought it oh-so-clever, had approved of it almost immediately. "But I've come to embrace it. I love their story."

"You have every right to embrace it," he assured her, gazing down at her fingers stroking his arm and then back to her face. "You resemble a goddess. It is only fitting."

Blushing, even though she'd worked hard to choke that particular reaction in the past few weeks, Hermione changed the subject before he got around to prying deeper into her fallacious past. "It's been so long since I've been able to make it into Knockturn," she confided, lowering her voice. "I'm short on reading material." She led him to a dusty bookshop that was dimly lit inside, impractical considering what the store contained. Her eyes scanned the shelves, and because she was such a bibliophile she was swiftly able to find what she sought. "Ah," she said, moving forward to bend down toward a lower shelf, giving the wizard a generous view of her backside, even robe-covered as it was. She extracted a book that inwardly made her cringe, but she forced herself to smile in satisfaction for Makarovin's benefit.

He came up behind her, his hand settling on her hip as he leaned over her shoulder to get a view of what she'd extracted. " _Dark Mating Rituals?_ " he questioned, his lips caressing her earlobe as he spoke. Hermione shivered in response, but not in enjoyment. Makarovin interpreted it differently, however, and turned her to face him slowly. "Why would you require such a book?" He seemed to be trying to peer into her soul, even as his hands tightened on her hips. She could feel her back being pressed into the bookshelf.

"You never know when such a thing might prove useful," she told him, parting her lips and raising an arched brow in what she hoped was a seductive expression. She could see she'd succeeded when his nostrils flared and his eyes darkened.

"You are a sensual woman," he announced, his light blue eyes dipping down to her breasts then back up to her face.

"How would you know that I'm sensual?" Hermione asked playfully, one hand holding her chosen book, the other resting on one of his forearms at her waist.

"I can feel it in you," he murmured, very seriously.

Knowing he preferred bold women, Hermione forged ahead with a sudden thought. "I'm visiting a new Wizarding club on the other side of London tomorrow evening," she divulged in an excited tone. "Perhaps you'd like to join me? Do you enjoy dancing?"

She could tell she'd pleased him, and felt like crowing in triumph when his charming smile came back, and he stepped away from her. She'd ensnared him. The hardest part was over.

"Shall I escort you?" he queried, lifting her hand to his lips in a fashion similar to the way Severus had taken to doing, except that, bizarrely, Makarovin seemed to inhale at her wrist as he did so.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself." She smiled as he released her hand. "I'll Apparate, and meet you. Perhaps one day I'll let you come to my flat," she teased, batting her eyelashes at him. Great Merlin, she felt like bloody Pansy Parkinson.

"Then until tomorrow, Persephone." He turned and exited the store, and Hermione let out a great sigh of relief.

* * *

Severus stewed the entire time he waited outside of Hermione's flat. He'd been ensconced on her doorstep for so long, he'd had to cast a charm so that Muggles wouldn't be able to spot him, lest they become alarmed. It had been dark for hours now. He felt as if he were going berserk. If the woman made him wait two seconds more…

He heard a loud crack, and then soft steps ascending the stairs. She appeared at the end of the long walkway, holding her heels in one hand with her robe thrown over her arm. When she saw him, she paused, but then continued forward with a look of resignation on her beautiful face.

"Hello Severus," she greeted softly, not meeting his eyes as she murmured, " _Lumos,_ " and unlocked her door. She stood back and gestured for him to enter, which surprised him momentarily, but he stalked into her flat and spun around to face her as she followed him and then closed the door. She leaned back against it and sighed heavily, finally looking up at him after she'd turned on the lights.

"Persephone, I presume?" he gritted out, eying her black sheath dress. He wanted to snog her, not quarrel with her. He was filled with a most primal urge to show her just whom she belonged to, but then, she didn't belong to him yet… which made him want to claim her even more. As dangerous as it was, he wanted his scent all over her so that Makarovin would know she already had a man with which to read _Dark Mating Rituals_.

"Don't you dare give me that look, Severus Snape," she threatened, her voice stronger now. "I cannot believe you followed me! After I specifically told you I would handle this, it's my _job_!"

"I cannot believe you expected otherwise, after I specifically informed you I wouldn't leave you in this alone." He glared at the wrist he'd seen Makarovin lavish attention on twice, at Fortescue's and again in the Dark bookshop. "I can't believe he touched you so brazenly when you'd only just met!" He scowled then, his lips tight, his hands clenched. "No, I do believe it." He moved forward, resting his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "When I saw him today, I recognized him immediately. He's more than just a Dark wizard, Hermione. He's a vampire."

Hermione's mouth fell open in shock, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. Her heels collided with the floor, and her robe slipped from where it'd been resting on her arm. "P-pardon me?"

Severus' eyes searched her face, which had drained of color. He could feel the slight tremble in her body. "Don't be afraid," he whispered, and slid his arms around her back and pulled her against him. It was strange how right he felt comforting her. No one had ever taken the time to comfort him, and he was certainly a novice at such things. But in that moment, his heated emotions fell away, and he just wanted to hold her and protect her.

"How could Harry have not known about this?" she asked against his chest, muffled as she pressed her face into his robes.

"Vampires work diligently to keep their secret; you know this. Makarovin has always been efficient in staying outside the notice of the Aurors." He pulled back and cupped Hermione's face in his hands. "I don't doubt your abilities, Hermione. You saved my life and you worked to bring down one of the most powerful wizards of all time. And I won't insist you abandon this mission, since I know you'll only oppose that notion until you're hoarse from it. But I must urge you, again, to use the utmost caution." He lovingly caressed her face, his fingers sliding into her hair. "He is an evil man. Not just Dark, but evil. I won't tell you of the atrocities I witnessed him commit, but rest assured they were sickening, and vile." He tugged her back into his embrace, never wanting to let go, hating her job and her boss and his inability to properly help her. "I will be around to assist you as much as I am able to," he promised, rubbing her upper back.

"That's why he kept sniffing at my wrist. I hadn't the foggiest what he was up to," she admitted, trying to lighten the mood, but still feeling like someone had kicked her in the stomach. What would she have done if Severus hadn't told her, and she'd found out firsthand that Makarovin was a vampire? Worse, as Severus had alluded, a particularly sadistic one. She'd have never come to that conclusion, even with Makarovin inhaling the scent at her wrist each time they met. But then, she knew Makarovin must beguile many, with his charming smile and polite façade.

All of her irritation due to Severus' decision to follow her evaporated as she suddenly realized he was deeply concerned about her. She reached up and held his face in her hands as she pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, Severus," she intoned softly, her hands resting on his chest as she gazed up at him.

"That's not how you show gratitude, woman," he retorted, his hand cupping the nape of her neck as he angled his head and captured her lips with his, showing her what he felt was the correct way. His touch was gentle at first, almost teasing in the way his tongue caressed the seam of her lips. But when she parted them and tentatively touched her tongue to his, he felt a wave of possessiveness surge through him, his urge to claim her returning so powerfully it made him dizzy. Her hands slid into his hair, clutching handfuls of the dark strands while he deepened their kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to duel with hers. He growled low in his throat when she pressed her body to his, and tried to remain on her tiptoes to maintain their lip lock.

He stooped and wrapped his arms firmly around her midsection, and lifted her so that they could kiss more comfortably. She clung to him, her legs instinctively enclosing around his waist, and he staggered forward to press her back against the door while her fingers delved further into his hair, massaging and tugging. He left her mouth to press kisses to her jaw, her throat, her shoulders, thrusting rhythmically against her as he went. His hands slid down to cup her bottom, which felt heavenly encased in the black dress she wore. He groaned against her neck and nipped the flesh playfully, until he heard her moan. One of his hands left its place to inch its way between them, his fingers tickling along her inner thigh, migrating up slowly to their desired destination.

"Harry," she moaned, and Severus froze, spine stiffening. Had she really just called out Potter's name while he was ravishing her?

"Granger," he sneered against her shoulder, trying to calm himself down. Despite the fact that she had just called out the name of most annoyingly arrogant dunderhead he'd ever had the misfortune of teaching, he was still sporting a raging hard-on, and her soft whimpers weren't helping. He shifted so that he was pinning her against the door with his body, and slapped his hands onto the door on either side of her head, glaring down at her. "Tell me you didn't just moan Potter's name. I'd have to kill the sod."

Hermione laughed huskily, opening cinnamon eyes that were still slightly glazed. "I'm sorry," she said contritely, appeasing him somewhat. "But I really must let Harry know what you've told me, about Makarovin being a vampire. This might change things, though I think I might have to persist a little longer…" Her fingers toyed with his hair as she spoke, and he grabbed them and pried them away.

"Don't distract me, witch, I'm trying to seduce you." He ground against her, and smirked when he heard her breath hitch.

"Severus – really!" She tapped on his shoulders to let him know she meant it, and he regretfully let her slide down his body until her feet were touching the floor. She twisted at the buttons of his frock coat as she held his intense gaze. "I'm glad you came here tonight," she pronounced, a soft smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Thank you for… looking after me." She didn't want to give him an arrogance boost – Merlin knew he didn't need any more of it – but she did want him to know how much she appreciated his concern and comfort.

"Hermione," he started, then frowned, wondering if he should continue. Tying him up in knots, indeed. "I… am not seeking to help because you saved my life," he told her, not quite meeting her eyes, but looking at a spot somewhere behind her ear. "I'm helping because…" He groaned inwardly, thinking he sounded like a bumbling dunderhead. "I've found I've come to care for you, alright?"

Her heart took up a rapid beat, her fingers stilling on his buttons. Not wanting to make him feel foolish, or question him, she simply acknowledged, "Alright."

He frowned again and met her gaze then, his fingers stroking her delicate cheekbones. "I would kiss you now, but then you wouldn't see Potter at all tonight. I'll leave you be." He grabbed her by the hips and moved her away from the door, gritting his teeth at the bloody blue balls he was enduring. He exited, extracting his wand from his robes to give himself some light.

"Severus!" she called out, though not loud enough to wake the neighbors. He turned back to her, just in time to catch her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. She sprang away from him after a few satisfying moments, and smiled brilliantly up at him. "Goodnight." She swayed back into her flat and shut the door softly.

Severus was still concerned for her safety, yes, but even as dangerous as Makarovin was, he had no doubt Hermione would ensnare the vampire just as thoroughly as she'd ensnared him.


	8. Abandoning Inhibitions

* * *

Hermione had never been much of an accomplished liar. Back in her First Year, when she'd lied about the troll incident, she'd known her professors didn't believe for one single second that she'd gone charging in after the brute. In school, she and the boys had created a successful system in which she worked behind the scenes to get what they needed, and they provided the distractions and the deceit. While she was somewhat adept at omitting the truth for the safety of others, she'd never been able to lie straight-faced to her best friends. And so it was that Harry perceived she'd enlightened Snape about the mission.

She'd called Harry to her flat almost immediately after Severus had left, and he had arrived posthaste with his redheaded wife in tow. After pacing in front of him and struggling to tiptoe around the fact that Severus had revealed Makarovin's dangerous identity, Harry had ordered her to sit down and tell him exactly what had transpired during the day; he hadn't read the report she'd written up after the encounter, as he'd been busy collaborating with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office on a mysterious case. Hermione sat in between Harry and Ginny, telling them everything, including how Severus had followed her. When she expressed curiosity about his knowledge of the time and place of her assignment, she hadn't seen Ginny blush guiltily – neither had Harry.

Harry was red with anger when Hermione finished, expounding on the danger Hermione could have faced if her cover had been blown. He gave her a piercing stare and demanded to know if she'd told Severus anything about the mission. He always had been too astute for his own good. When Hermione stammered out that Severus wanted her trust and sought to help, leading her to reveal the mission to him, Harry had bounded off the sofa, throwing his hands in the air and raging about the room. Not one to back down, though – and with surprising reinforcement from Ginny, who pointed out to Harry that he told her everything, so why shouldn't Hermione be able to tell Severus, especially if he could assist them – Hermione convinced Harry that he should trust Severus, because she trusted their former Potions master implicitly. Grudgingly, the Boy Who Lived settled down and conceded that it was actually a damn good thing his once-nemesis was involved, or they would never have known about Makarovin being a vampire.

There was little choice but to remain on the case, with Hermione reeling Makarovin in slowly and surely. They still had no proof of his purported illicit activities, but they were sure he'd slip up eventually, especially if his mind was occupied by a certain Auror masquerading as a temptress.

But Harry wanted to exercise every caution. He would be trailing Hermione and Makarovin at every given opportunity, even though he trusted Hermione's strengths. And he was slightly mollified to know that Severus would be watching her, also.

As tended to be custom in the Wizarding world, when any exciting event was happening, Harry and Ginny were invited, as well as Ron and Hermione. Ron would be at a Quidditch match, but Harry and Ginny accepted their invitation to the opening of the new Wizarding dance club Hermione had invited Makarovin to. Not only would it provide the perfect distraction for Hermione to weave her spell over Makarovin, it would give Harry a reason to be there to watch her back.

Hermione was busy shimmying into another tight dress while Ginny did her best to help, while Harry sat in the kitchen studying a book about vampires, occasionally shouting out to Hermione new revelations that refuted Muggle beliefs about the creatures. A knock at the door caused all of them to still, and then with a gentle pat to Hermione's arm Ginny went to answer it.

Severus knew he shouldn't have been surprised when Potter's wife opened the door, though he rather had been hoping to swoop down on Hermione and lecture her in the ways of caution. Instead, he smirked knowingly at the redhead before him, silent thanks for her help the previous day in revealing the particulars of Hermione's assignment. She nodded to him and stepped aside so that he could enter, and he came face to face with Potter.

"Snape," the young man greeted curtly, his eyes narrowed.

Before Severus could reply with equal disgust to the cold welcome, Hermione exited the hall, clasping the front of her dress against her chest.

"Did I hear you say…" Her voice trailed off as she spotted Severus, and a warm look came into her eyes. "Hello, Severus," she murmured with a soft smile, her eyes devouring him.

But all Severus could do was stand stiffly and endeavor not to gape at her. "You cannot go out like that!" he told her firmly, his fists clenching. He wasn't sure if he wanted to shake some sense into her or kiss her until she begged for him.

Her smile faded and she looked down at herself. "Like what?" She motioned for Ginny to join her, and quietly asked her to zip up the back of her dress.

Severus scoffed at the term. He wasn't the kind of wizard who paid much mind to fashion, but he didn't think what Hermione was wearing could be considered a dress. The skin-tight, scarlet satin material embraced her from mid-thigh to just above her breasts, where thin straps looped her shoulders. As she turned so that her friend could zip up the back, he saw the straps criss crossed her back. He felt himself becoming highly affected, which angered him immensely. She'd get far too much attention in that salacious outfit.

"I'll be back," Hermione announced with a frown, and marched back down the short hall into her bedroom, slamming the door loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"Well done!" Harry said mockingly, glaring at his former professor. "Did you have to get her riled up before she went out? She's got enough to worry about as it is, what with this maniac being a vampire!"

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, her hands going to her hips.

Severus raised a brow before turning and stalking towards Hermione's bedroom. He entered quietly to find her securing her hair atop her head, tilting her chin this way and that to see what she was doing. When she saw him behind her in the mirror, she sighed heavily and turned toward him, folding her arms across her chest.

"Leave your hair down," he commanded, reaching out to twirl a lock of it around his finger. "It's so enticing on you, long and tamed this way."

Something in her eyes told him she didn't appreciate the compliment. She spun around and reached behind her to lift the mass of heavy waves and twist it into a fashionable up-do, the way the witches at the magical salon had instructed her. With a murmured spell, her hair remained in place. She examined it closely, a rueful smile on her face. "I had thought to put it up. He's a vampire, after all. He'll be focusing on my neck." She refused to be hurt by Severus' statement about her hair, knowing she'd lose her tenuous hold on her self-control. She didn't want this outward appearance when the mission was over; she yearned to go back to being herself. And from the way Severus acted it seemed she would lose him once she did.

Ignoring those disquieting thoughts, she trailed her fingers down her jugular vein, her eyes narrowed in fascination at the way it seemed to pulse under her light touch.

Severus seized her by the shoulders and whirled her around, shaking her with enough force that a few soft locks of hair fell to frame her face. "This isn't a game, Hermione! He will try to bite you. You are far too tempting a morsel. You won't be able to tease him the way you've teased me." He didn't sound angry; his voice was filled with urgency and concern.

"I never meant to tease you," she whispered helplessly, feeling slightly ashamed. But her temper was quick in returning, and she jerked away from him. "This is a game, Severus. But he shall be the loser," she asserted, bending to place her crimson heels on her feet, using his arm to steady herself.

"I'm coming to look after you," he declared, trying not to notice her state of near undress and the bed that was only inches away. He shot a dark look at the taunting piece of furniture, where a giant orange cat was slumbering peacefully.

"I don't require looking after, Severus," she retorted airily, and walked past him to retrieve her robes. "And I don't think you'd enjoy it… we're going to be dancing, after all." She patted Crookshanks' head and opened her bedroom door.

Severus growled low in his throat, barely recognizing the sound. He remembered all too well the provocative dancing he'd witnessed when he'd arrived unexpectedly at Hermione's flat days ago. To imagine her doing that in front of not only Makarovin, but a good portion of wizards at this new club, made his blood boil. He strode out of her bedroom after her, catching her by the elbow and once again tugging her around to face him. He ignored the Potters leaning forward to observe them in the hallway with curious eyes.

"Hermione." He lowered his voice as he addressed her, holding her gaze intently. "Let me handle him. You won't have to be at risk…"

She laid a hand on his arm, offering him a sad smile. "I'm an Auror. Risk is what I do." She reached up to cup his jaw, and leaned toward him to press a gentle kiss upon his lips. "Don't watch, Severus." With that, she turned and joined a stunned Harry and a sympathetic Ginny at the door.

"The bloody hell I won't!" Severus bellowed behind them.

* * *

The previous day, after composing her report for Harry's inspection, Hermione had penned a quick missive to Demyan, informing him the grand opening of the new Wizarding club Triple Hex would commence at eleven o'clock, expressing her eager anticipation to dance with him. An incredibly crafty Ministry owl had carried off the letter which merely had his name on the envelope, and no address. She'd received a rather swift, thoroughly charming reply thanking her for the opportunity, and confirmation of their rendezvous.

It was no surprise, therefore, that he arrived precisely on time, joining her outside of the club which was well-concealed, as any Wizarding establishment was, from Muggle eyes. The crowd was vast, with Harry and Ginny already being escorted in by the owners and the music beginning to blare. Makarovin found her with ease, sliding his hand onto her shoulder and around her back so that he could pull her close to him amidst the crush of bodies. His lips were close to her ear when he greeted her.

"Good evening, Persephone," he murmured, turning her face towards him. His hands slid down to her waist, and he peered down at her, his eyes raking across her body. "You move me with your beauty."

Hermione shivered. She couldn't help it. He was one of the most startlingly handsome men she'd ever beheld, and since becoming an Auror she'd done a fair bit of traveling and glimpsed many a handsome man. But there was something distinct about him, though she didn't want to acknowledge it, for it would only make it harder to consider him a villain. He was extremely tall; taller than even Severus, so that she had to crane her neck up to look at him. She'd never have believed him to be a vampire if Severus hadn't been so sure. Luna Lovegood had often expounded on the appearance of such beings as she had her theories concerning which wizards were actually vampires, but Demyan Makarovin wasn't gaunt at all, as Luna affirmed all vampires were. On the contrary, he was filled out quite nicely; Hermione could feel the strength in him when he held onto her hips as he did now. He was quite pale, but many men were pale, and it definitely suited Makarovin, emphasizing his light blue eyes so much they seemed to glow, and drawing attention to his lush dark hair. He was wearing a chocolate brown suit with a blue shirt, which she could spot under his impeccable robes. He was, quite simply, breath-taking.

But Hermione didn't want to think of him as such. The pull of him was nearly irresistible, as if all other thoughts fled her mind and it settled simply on him and the image he presented. She shook herself mentally, trying to ignore his azure eyes and focus instead of the thought of sharp fangs concealed in his mouth.

"I think you just made me weak in the knees, Demyan," she purred, a teasing smile upon her lips. She extracted one of his hands from her waist and led him through the massive crowd toward the club's ingress. Everyone was clamoring to get in, but Hermione slipped in easily with Demyan close behind her. Several bouncers begin to try to control the crowd then, attempting to form a line. Hermione sent a self-satisfied smile over her shoulder at the man she led to the bar, a silent acknowledgment of their luck in getting into the club so effortlessly.

She approached the edge of the bar and slipped his arm around her waist, while she stroked his shoulder. "Did you want a drink?" she inquired, watching him as if she were completely captivated by him.

His heated gaze dipped briefly to her neck, disconcerting her, then back to her eyes. He grinned wolfishly, snaking his other arm around her waist and boldly slipping it inside her robes. "Dancing, then a drink," he promised, staring at her throat again before shrugging out of his robes and then helping her discard hers. His eyes devoured her scarlet dress, and she could tell he really did appreciate the color. She truly hoped her expression wasn't proclaiming how alarmed she was by his hungry attention.

He led her this time, stopping in a darkened spot at the edge of the dance floor and drawing her to him slowly, sensually as charmed blacklights bounced beams of illumination over the club walls and heaving bodies. Hermione tried not to capitulate to the seductive rhythm of the song, to the provocative undulation of Demyan's hips as he ground against her while holding her close. She felt out of sync, off-beat, as she struggled to remain distanced from him and the entrancing way he danced; it wouldn't do. She needed to let go, convince him she was his. Knowing Harry would be there to pull her out if things got too precarious, she threw back her head and succumbed to the feelings the music evoked in her, gyrating against Demyan the way the beat demanded she must.

Demyan turned her in his arms, and she immediately rotated her hips, her arse rubbing against his pelvis. She reached up behind her to grasp his head and hold him to her as they moved in tandem. She felt lost in a sensual haze, barely noticed as his lips ghosted across her neck, her throat…

Severus had been doing a magnificent job of tuning out Makarovin completely, and focusing solely on Hermione as she sat within the upper level of the club. The way she moved with such abandon enflamed him as nothing else could. He was entranced by her erotic movements, wanted to march down to the dance floor and take her for his own. He'd acknowledged he'd feel possessive, but he never envisioned it manifesting such tightness in his body. He was gripping the handles of his seat so forcefully his knuckles were white. He didn't even see the vampire… he couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione.

Just as he was downing his fifth shot of Firewhiskey, his gaze still rapt on his witch, he finally noticed Makarovin paying special attention to her neck. The lights bounced off their bodies, and he caught a flash of the vampire's lethal white fangs. With a mad shout, Severus leapt out of his chair, causing it to crash to the floor. He raced down the many steps to the dance floor, headed toward Hermione with his lead low and nostrils flaring like a great bull.

He was unceremoniously caught by his robes, and when he turned to give his captor a thorough thrashing, he found himself staring into the clear green eyes of Lily Evans-Potter. Or rather, her obnoxious son, who was holding him back and desperately trying to calm him down. But Severus was seeing red. All he could think of was reaching Hermione before the monster marked her as his own. Blindly, he lashed out and struck Harry on his temple, and the young man released him so quickly that Severus ended up on his arse at the edge of the dance floor. He blinked, trying to reorient himself, but the lights were rebounding all around the room, making him deliriously dizzy.

Two bouncers approached him, and trained their wands at his back as they escorted him to the entrance of the club.

Hermione and Demyan had halted their consuming dance, as had most of the others around them as they watched, startled, at the altercation. Most gasped as they witnessed Harry Potter receive a rather forceful blow, but not Hermione; she was busy locking Demyan in a fierce embrace and kissing him with such ferocity that she felt him grow rock hard against her. She'd spotted Severus barreling towards them, and couldn't allow Demyan to recognize him. It was the first way she'd thought of to distract him, and hoped to God and Merlin she was a good enough osculator to keep Demyan's attention from the pandemonium on the edge of the dance floor.

When she heard loud comments made by others about the man who'd assaulted Harry Potter being escorted out, she released Demyan's face from her grip. She turned slightly to gaze in the direction of the commotion, relieved to see Severus was completely gone. She held onto Demyan's forearm as she leaned toward him and whispered, "That was so frightening!" The innocence in her own voice amused her as she gave him an explanation for her sudden ardor, but Demyan responded under the pretense of a capable protector. He nuzzled her cheek and wrapped his arms around her.

"No need to fear, my dear. Petty brawls are not uncommon in places like these. It's actually rather… stimulating." He inhaled her scent, and if she hadn't known he was a vampire, she would've found it endearing… even if he was a total stranger. He made a woman feel as if he was completely trustworthy. Hermione wondered just how many victims he'd deceived.

A couple off to the side moved in front of them to better see what had taken place. The woman overheard Demyan's comment and turned with wide eyes to look at them. "Stuff like this always happened at Azkadance!" she exclaimed.

"How exciting!" Hermione retorted pretentiously, turning to face Demyan fully and pressing her body into his. She twined her arms about his neck, and saw Harry move away in her periphery. He'd obviously assessed her situation without being blatant about it, and realized she was fine.

But she wasn't fine. She wanted to be with Severus, not glued to Demyan. He'd charged in to protect her. She felt for him, even if she had warned him not to watch.

* * *

The blow he'd dealt Harry Potter should have made him feel better, but it didn't. As he stalked across town towards Hermione's flat, his robes wrapped tightly around his body, a barrage of images assaulted him. Lily's eyes that had haunted him for so long. That bloody vampire lavishing attention on Hermione's neck, as though he was about to sample her life essence. Hermione telling him not to watch. Lily telling him she never wanted to speak to him again.

It was too distressing, too painful. How many times in his life had he ruined his chances, dashed his own stupid hopes? How many times had something he desired been in reach, only to slip through his fingers because of his own bloody mistakes? He'd promised himself he wouldn't make the same mistakes with Hermione he'd made with Lily, and yet there he'd been, in a jealous rage that had been wholly unfounded. Unlike Lily, Hermione wasn't torn in her affections. Her favor rested solely with Severus, she'd told him that, and still his insecurities had convinced him she was falling for that vampire!

To make matters worse, he'd been banned from Triple Hex. No one struck Harry Potter with impunity. He couldn't protect Hermione now, couldn't be there for her like he'd promised. He was almost positive that miscreant was going to bite her… surely Potter had seen that, had realized Severus was only trying to rescue her. But he supposed he should be thankful Potter did stop him. He could've ruined everything, all over again.

He wanted to justify his actions at the club to himself, to Hermione, and even to Harry bloody Potter. They hadn't been privy to Makarovin's appetites, how malicious and depraved he could become. He'd seen the vampire drink the blood of innocent women and children, devouring their life force after torturing them in unimaginable ways, laughing maniacally all the while. It was only a matter of time before Makarovin tried his twisted tricks on Hermione, and that had been Severus' only thought when he'd seen the creature's fangs ghost over her throat. Only once before had he encountered such rage, been so completely consumed by overwhelming fury… the night the Dark Lord had killed Lily. He couldn't, wouldn't stand by and let Hermione be taken from him.

As he'd done the previous night, he camped out on Hermione's doorstep, his mood blackening with each passing moment. So many thoughts and emotions swirled through his tormented mind, but one thing remained at the forefront: Hermione Granger was his, and he couldn't abide that fact being disputed. By him or anyone else.

The familiar cracking indicating her Apparation sounded, and he glanced up with narrowed eyes in the direction of the stairs. Body tense, heart beating wildly, Severus slowly stood to his full height before Hermione's door. She came around the corner, an unreadable expression on her face.

Her eyes met his in the moonlight, and she gasped at the raw emotion harbored there. She'd never seen the like in Severus Snape before, and the effect on her senses was devastating. She stopped dead in her tracks mere feet away from him, breathing raggedly.

He spoke not a word. Stalking towards her, he captured her by the nape of her neck, and crushed her lips beneath his own in a bruising kiss of unmistakable dominance.


	9. Surrendering Hearts

* * *

It felt like the most natural and sublime thing in the world to be in Severus' arms, to be at the mercy of the possessive beast within him. He was gripping her so tightly she might very well bruise, and yet she demanded more with forceful tugs of his hair. The way they were entwined around each other made it appear as though they were coalescing into one person. It was savage and all consuming… and Hermione never wanted it to end.

She realized there would be no going back tonight. He would finally claim her so completely that it would no longer be a topic for debate, and the mere thought terrified her even as it sent a thrill racing through her. She was falling for Severus Snape; or – to put it more precisely – had fallen for him. It was ludicrous, it was pure insanity, but nevertheless it felt right down to the very core of her soul. However, her mind and her heart were two completely divergent entities, and her strong-willed, independent mind shied away from the notion of surrendering her heart to anyone, most especially a man whom she desired as wholly as she did Severus. If she accepted his dominion over her heart as she had over her body, he could destroy her if he so chose. There was an overwhelming fear in the back of her mind that, once the mission was over and she reverted to plain, know-it-all Hermione, she would undoubtedly lose his favor.

And yet, how could she not lay down her pride at his feet and embrace him wholeheartedly? He'd given more of himself to her than to anyone else in his life – perhaps even Lily, though Hermione refused to think of her at that moment – or so he had told her, and it couldn't have been easy for him. She was honored and humbled by him. For years he'd had no one to confide in, and she was determined to be that person whenever he needed her.

He was her match in every way, except for the snarky persona he'd become so used to evincing. Such a thing was easily overlooked in light of their overwhelming similarities, ones she'd never shared with Ronald or any other wizard she'd dated. The idea that she and Severus could sit in a room whilst reading their own books with companionable silence between them was blissful; as was the knowledge that if she sent Severus a knowing look over the edge of her book, he'd be before her in an instant, unleashing all of the passion inside them.

And even though it was sure to cause a stir – she was sure the only reason Harry hadn't railed over her relationship with Severus more recently was the mission – she knew what she wanted, what had become important to her. So astounded was she by the realization that she loved him, that she was willing to yield her whole self up to him, that she jerked away from him with a stunned expression on her face. His eyes were so dark, so intense. Her hand fluttered to her throat as she swallowed delicately. She involuntarily backed up a step and felt the cool surface of her door at her back.

Severus regarded her with narrowed eyes, trying to regulate his breathing and the animalistic urge to claim her right there outside of her flat. For a split second his heart pounded painfully against his chest at her reaction to his fervor, thinking he'd scared her beyond measure. But then he recognized the way her wide eyes had clouded with desire, the way her lips had parted as she pressed back against her door. Her chest was heaving with her uncontrolled breath, and the very sight of her unleashed some dark beast within him; it clawed at his insides ferociously, making him clench his jaw and close his eyes as he summoned his self-control.

When he opened his eyes again, he pinned her with a heated stare and watched a shiver ripple through her body. His cock throbbed painfully in response to the visible hardening of her nipples against the tight fabric of her dress. He couldn't repress a low growl, and then a dark, humorless chuckle when she responded by turning the doorknob and stumbling back into her flat. He prowled over the threshold, slamming the door behind him. He cast wordless spells for protection and consideration of the neighbors' feelings – he was going to make her scream tonight, and would probably be making quite a bit of noise himself – proud that he could even have clarity of mind to do so. Especially since he hadn't once taken his eyes off her still-retreating form.

"You will become mine tonight, Hermione," he warned her, and she halted at the entrance of the short hallway to her bedroom. "No turning back."

She bit her lower lip, still breathing heavily. "No turning back," she repeated softly, and took a step towards him, but he swept down upon her before she could move. His teeth replaced hers on her lower lip, and his hands dove into her hair to secure her to him as he plundered her mouth.

Feeling utterly out of control, Severus swung her around and urged her back against the door to her flat, a position they had been in once before which had yielded pleasurable yet unsatisfying results – tonight he would remedy that. Then, she had been reluctant, and now… she was as feral as he, sucking his tongue into her mouth as if she'd never be allowed to kiss him again, as if she hungered ravenously for his mouth. He pinned her shoulders against the door, and bent slightly to mate the bulge in his trousers with the apex of her thighs. Hermione's head fell back as she moaned from the feel of him hard against her, and Severus took the opportunity to attack her neck with nips and kisses as he thrust rhythmically against her.

"Did he touch you?" he suddenly growled against her neck, his possessive rage and maddening emotions for her boiling his blood at the thought. "Were you wet for him?" he demanded, needing to hear her denial, needing to know she was his alone. When she didn't answer right away, only moaned against his ear, he drew back and seized a handful of her hair, twisting it around his fist. "Did you moan for him?" He kissed her punishingly, bruising her lips even though she hadn't answered.

"No, Severus!" she cried out, her fingers clutching his frock coat, her breathing labored. "Only you," she whimpered as his hand in her hair gentled. She clasped his face in her hands. "Only you can do this to me," she husked as she crushed her lips to his. He responded with voracity, his tongue battling wildly with hers.

He began to maneuver them toward her bedroom, never breaking contact with her even as they bumped against the walls of the hall. They reached the dead end of the hallway, and had to backtrack to her bedroom. She tripped, but he caught her, lifting her into his arms as he continued his oral assault. They burst into her room. She was just as frantic as Severus, a fire heating her blood the likes of which she'd never known. She shoved his robes off his shoulders and worked determinedly on the many buttons of his frock coat, nipping at the flesh she revealed. In their fervor, they forgot the convenience of magic, and stripped each other bare the old-fashioned way.

Severus peeled the tight red dress from her body, and bent to help her step out of it; but he couldn't seem to stand up again, stunned by her lack of underthings. She hadn't been wearing a stitch underneath her dress, and his mouth was suddenly dryer than the Sahara. He knelt there before her with his hands on her calves, simply worshipping her with his eyes, feeling himself grow rock hard at the vision she presented.

She tried to pull him up then, one of her delicate hands sliding around his neck, one into his hair. "Severus," she called softly, beginning to feel self-conscious. He looked completely out of sorts, and he wouldn't budge despite her gentle pressure. She frowned and perched upon the end of her bed, leaning back to study him. Her body was heated to a fever pitch from his kisses alone, and she needed release. After a brief glance down at his rigid erection, she ascertained he did, too.

"Surely you're not going to sit there and look at me all night," she mocked, half-irritated and half-amused. The thought of the mighty Severus Snape enslaved by her body was delicious, indeed.

"I'm sorely tempted," he murmured in response, and although she registered the slight playfulness in his tone, his eyes were dark with inflamed desire. She bent to remove her stilettos, but he captured her hands, halting the action. "Leave them," he commanded, slowly starting to rise from his genuflection.

"But-" She was cut off as the evidence of his arousal bobbed before her face. She swallowed heavily as her eyes traversed his torso to meet his gaze. Her breath hitched in her throat at his unwavering, lust-filled look; her limbs felt weak.

"I have to be inside you now," he pleaded raggedly, as his palm wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking himself right before her very eyes – which she was sure were wide as saucers by now. "I promise to be gentle later," he vowed in as much of an apologetic tone as he could muster.

He wished to go slowly with her, wanted to build her up to a glorious climax; but she had already, little by little, pushed him to the point where he would be denied no longer. She deserved tender caresses and whispered words of devotion as part of a slow, sensual seduction, but he was clinging to the last remnants of his self-control, and all he could think of was planting himself so deeply inside her she'd never feel whole again without him there.

Grasping her upper arms, he tossed her back onto her bed, ignoring the screech of the giant orange feline that scurried away from the commotion. Hermione felt a hysteric giggle bubble up inside her but refused to let it out, knowing it would unnerve Severus. She longed for him to know how thoroughly he aroused her, how completely she'd fallen for him. She lay atop the duvet, breathing heavily, tracking him with hooded eyes as he prowled between her legs and came to rest in the cradle of her hips.

"Open," he growled as he claimed her lips, one of his hands coiling in her hair to hold her still as he took complete control of her mouth, while at the same time using his other hand to wrench her thighs open wider. His mouth lifted as his deft fingers stroked her slippery center, and he closed his eyes and groaned roughly. "I need you like I've never needed anyone else," he whispered raggedly against her ear.

Hermione reached down to stroke him as his thumb circled her clit, and kissed the side of his neck. "And I you, Severus."

She guided his steely length to her heated entrance, biting down on his earlobe as she did so. It was more encouragement than he needed, which was Hermione's intention – he plunged into her, shouting an expletive as she clamped around him. The last coherent thought in Hermione's brain was how exhilarating it was to witness Severus reduced to a caveman – and then promptly turned into a cavewoman, herself.

As he plunged into her again and again, ruthlessly driving the breath from her and giving her the most exquisite pleasure imaginable, Hermione entwined her arms and legs around him, holding on for dear life while trying to match him thrust for thrust. Her nails bit into his shoulder blades, wordlessly beseeching him to stay seated within her. He ignored her unspoken pleas, and withdrew and surged forth repeatedly, eliciting breathless whimpers from her. She moaned into his mouth and then kissed him thoroughly, clutching fistfuls of his hair. She pressed her stiletto heels into the taut flesh of his arse, inviting him deeper into her body. The pain-pleasure she inflicted on him with her action had him seizing her hips and pistoning into her so furiously that she cried out in ecstasy, blinking back tears as she shattered from her overpowering release. She tightened around his tumescent flesh, her walls encasing him like a glove, her high-heeled shoes boring into his arse.

" _Fuck_ … Hermione!" he choked, and he tensed against her as he came, his fingers clenching her sides.

As she felt his warmth spread into her womb, she closed her eyes and breathed, "I love you, Severus."

* * *

Severus felt like a total and utter pillock as he roused from slumber the next morning. As sunlight filtered through Hermione's tiny bedroom window, and outlined her slumbering form, he cursed himself for being such a Neanderthal with her. She surely anticipated more from him their first time together than just a frenzied, mindless shag.

He acknowledged what had come over him, why he'd needed to possess her unequivocally. He'd become bedeviled by desire from the night he'd encountered her at the Three Broomsticks with Minerva and her friends. Beyond that, he'd been longing to find his savior, his Auror, and had known that she was a woman he would pursue. All of those factors, combined with her recent association with the vampire, had him poised on a knife edge; the volatile emotions he'd tried to come to terms with since Voldemort's demise had been the reason he'd descended into the abyss of a madman. Though, how in Merlin's name could he rationalize that to Hermione? He could only hope she would hear him out and try to understand.

But then a memory returned to him… it felt distant, too distant considering it had just occurred the night before… and yet, he knew with a certainty that made his heart constrict in his chest, that just before they'd passed out from their frantic lovemaking she'd whispered that she loved him. Him. The oversized bat, the greasy git. She'd cradled him to her spent body and accepted all of him with those three small words that meant so much.

It scared the hell out of him.

Nevertheless, this was what he craved. He was no coward, and he was free as a bird since the Dark Lord's downfall to be the man he'd always wished to be, and accomplish the goals he'd always dreamed of. He was changed, and he would not allow his old, insecure self to come back and ruin things with Hermione.

The witch beside him stirred, and he propped himself up on an elbow to watch her rouse. She was wearing his shirt, and the sight of it caused a stirring both in his groin and in his heart. She stretched languorously then, sighing with pleasure as her limbs extended and her muscles relaxed. She smoothed her hair before turning curiously to face him, and when she saw him she smiled shyly and reached over to cup his cheek as she kissed him.

"Good morning," she greeted softly, her cinnamon eyes bright.

Her look undid him. How could she love him? "Morning," he mumbled, keeping his eyes downcast. He slipped his fingers beneath his pilfered shirt, caressing her skin, inching the material methodically up her body. He enjoyed the view created by the streams of sunlight bathing her form as more morning light poured in. It was the sunlight, however, that unveiled the dark bruises on her waist where he'd restrained her so forcefully the previous night. "Merlin's bullocks," he cursed, reaching out to trace the purple patches with a grim visage.

She glanced down to view the marks, and then smiled sexily. "Oops," she teased, resting her hand over his on her hip. She was thrilled he had accorded himself such freedom with her, and endeavored to make him understand. The marks could be easily healed with a potion, but it would take much more to heal him.

"My intention was not to bruise you…" He trailed off as she traced her fingers down his back. She circled the marks her stilettos had made in his arse with a wicked grin.

"I'm not sorry to inform you that I fully intended to leave these on you," she bantered, inching closer to him on the bed enabling her to wrap her arms around him. "It was glorious, Severus," she assured him, serious now as she attempted to give his confidence a boost.

"I want to believe you, but I find it difficult," he managed to respond, enfolding her in his arms and nuzzling the top of her head. Yearning to tell her everything before he lost his courage, knowing if he did he might ultimately lose her, he forged on, "I care deeply for you."

Hermione kissed his chest and rubbed his back in soothing circles, encouraging him to continue. She wanted to reciprocate but knew if she interrupted him he might hesitate to continue.

"The last time I allowed myself to care for someone the way I've come to care for you, the last time I dared to hope I could be happy with someone, I was… crushed." He breathed deeply, willing himself to continue. Somewhere deep within him, he knew that Hermione was someone he could count on. "I swore long ago I would never let myself cherish someone the way I cherished her. But you've made that impossible, Hermione." He sighed gravely into her hair, stroking the strands and clinging to her like a lifeline. "Your intelligence, your wit, and your beauty have captivated me." He pulled away to look into her eyes, his own narrowed in frustration. "This is the most uncomfortable moment of my life," he huffed, glaring at her as if it were her fault. He never imagined the abhorrent antics of his fellow schoolmates would be considered less offensive to him than something such as this, but at that moment he reasoned he might prefer a good jibe from Potter and Black in front of the whole school rather than having to bare his heart to Hermione.

Hermione couldn't quite believe they were having this conversation, but she felt privileged to have Severus open up to her. He was multi-faceted; she recognized, beneath his strong, foreboding exterior, he was vulnerable and felt emotions more keenly than most people. Her responsibility to look after his heart was a solemn undertaking, and she was determined to keep it safe at all costs.

"I want you, Severus," she whispered, and ran her hands along his strong shoulders, the muscles of his arms, then feathered her fingers across his abdomen. "You are all I want," she breathed against his jaw where she nibbled as her finger circled his navel.

"How could you want me? You could have anyone, Hermione." His voice was dark, the self-loathing evident in his tone.

Hermione gripped his chin and forced him to maintain eye contact with her. "Stop that. Did you not hear me?" she questioned, pressing him onto his back and rising above him to straddle his legs, "I want you." She splayed her hands across his chest and stared at him intently.

Severus avoided her sincere gaze, instead choosing to focus on the question that plagued his mind. He was all too keen to deviate from the seriousness and depth of their current discourse. "What happened after I was rather unceremoniously thrown out last night?" He didn't want to ruin their remarkable time together but he wanted to protect her and be there for her… as she had been for him all morning. He slid her off his body to rest beside him, his hand trailing down the smooth skin of her back.

"You were unceremoniously thrown out because you acted unceremoniously," she teased, but there was no twinkle in her eye. She stroked idly at his pectorals, biting her lower lip as she ruminated. She'd forgotten all about Makarovin and her mission while in Severus' arms, and the reality of her situation came crashing down upon her like a cold, hard rain.

"Answer me," he demanded, squeezing her to him.

"I'm not sure you want to be made privy to that particular bit of information," she hedged, her palm stilling on his chest.

"He revealed something to you?" he asked, his voice suddenly hushed as if they were sharing a secret in a crowded room.

"Actually, no. He was too preoccupied with ascertaining what I'd learned from _Dark Mating Rituals,_ " she groused sourly, brows furrowing in distaste. When Severus' hold tightened on her, she added, "I managed to subdue him after a few gropes, feigning exhaustion. I couldn't bear his hands on me any longer. We have another assignation early this afternoon."

Dark thoughts raged in his mind and he bit his tongue, but then dispatched a scathing rebuke when he sneered, "It seemed you quite relished his hands upon you while dancing." He wanted to kick himself. He almost apologized, but then he felt her slap lightly at his chest. He glanced down at her to see her rolling her eyes heavenward.

"I'm undercover, Severus. One must be an apt actor to succeed at undercover work." She tapped her fingers against his sternum. "He's not you," she explained softly.

"Don't attempt to use your acting skills on me, Hermione." His hands tightened on her, eyes boring into her. "You find him attractive," he accused.

"It's impossible not to. He's a vampire; if you hadn't enlightened me I would've thought I was genuinely attracted to him, but I could feel that imperceptible draw to him." She ran her hands over his body, not to tantalize, but to soothe the stiffness from him. "I thought of you the entire time I was with him, Severus. He's attractive, but so are you."

He scoffed at her words, trying desperately not to sneer at her. "I'm not handsome."

"I wasn't referring to your looks, you daft man. I was referring to you, as a whole. I can hold a vastly intelligent conversation with you. I feel safe when I'm with you… and empowered. As though I'm some sought-after goddess." She blushed. "Your voice is devastating. Even when you're sneering, it's bloody sexy." She smiled and dipped her head, nuzzling at his chest. "You nose may not be considered fashionable but I happen to adore it."

He couldn't help himself; he threw his head back and laughed, startling Hermione into wide-eyed silence. He tugged at her hair and gave her a delighted smile, stealing her breath with the transformation. "Wench," he taunted, leaning down to plant a kiss on her nose. His smile froze in place when he registered the way she was looking at him; her eyes were full of wonder, and a sweet smile was slowly spreading across her luscious lips. It made his chest hurt. But more importantly, it made his loins ache. He rolled her onto her back and rose above her, brushing her hair back from her face as he gazed down at her.

"I've never heard you laugh before," she said in awe, her arms sliding around his neck, her thighs opening to cradle him.

"You inspire me," he rasped, and bent to suck at her lower lip while his hands slipped beneath the shirt she wore. Inch by inch he hiked the shirt higher, the tips of his fingers just below the soft cotton gliding smoothly against her skin. Her flesh tingled where he touched, sizzling beneath the surface as if her blood sang for him. When she shuddered involuntarily from the pleasurable sensation, Severus paused and glanced up at her, mesmerized by her response to him.

Her eyes snapped open, and she placed her hands over his on her ribcage where he had paused. "Please?" she begged, her tawny eyes darkening with desire. She reached up to clutch locks of hair at his temples, dragging him down to her.

Severus, needy bastard that he was, held back, his fingers toying with the hem of the shirt, darting along the undersides of her breasts. "Say it again," he demanded, inclining his head nearer to hers but still holding back.

"Please!" she cried, tugging once more on his hair.

Pleased with her response, he blanketed her mouth with his, running his tongue along the seam of her lips teasingly. She opened to him instantly, stroking his tongue with hers as their kiss deepened. Her wrists locked at the back of his neck while her body arched insistently against his. But Severus wanted to explore more than just her delicious mouth. He slid his head out from her arms, his hands roving sensuously down her body to cup her hips while his mouth journeyed down to her flat stomach. He nuzzled her belly lovingly, and marveled as he inhaled the scent of her skin only to recognize his own scent. His cock throbbed painfully at the realization that he'd made her his so thoroughly that she smelled of him, and he did his best to suppress his own mounting ardor and focus on Hermione. He wanted to make up for his barbaric behavior the previous night, and make love to her the way she deserved.

He maneuvered up her body once more, settling comfortably between her trembling thighs as his hands glided up from her waist to her breasts, cupping and plumping them. He watched her eyes screw shut from the intense pleasure he induced, and felt an overwhelming amount of masculine pride suffuse him. He couldn't stop a wicked grin from forming as he massaged her twin mounds, and then a husky laugh when he tweaked her hardened nipples and her hips bucked up into his. Her eyes flew open at the sound, and then narrowed as she realized how much he was enjoying teasing her, and he couldn't help but kiss her frowning mouth.

His lips descended upon hers, and he thrust his tongue into the wet cavern of her mouth, reveling in the taste of her. He cupped the sides of her face tenderly, and tilted his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His witch enfolded her arms about him, her tongue eagerly dueling with his. He drew back to press his lips to the sides of her mouth, and then sucked at her lower lip enticingly. When she attempted to take control of their lip-lock, he moved away, much to her vexation. His lips ghosted across her jaw and chin, and then he nibbled his way down her neck, pausing below her earlobe to deliver a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the fragile skin there. He grinned when he felt her whole body shiver, and used his lips, tongue, and teeth to travel over her chest, again pausing to lavish attention on her sensitive flesh. His hands shifted back to her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples, massaging them into hard nubs. She canted her pelvis, seeking contact with his straining prick, but he corralled her hips and bore them back down to the bed, immobilizing her while he continued his seduction. Her back arched as he engulfed her areole, rolling his tongue across her nipple unceasingly, until she was crying out his name and sinking her nails into his shoulders.

"Please," she begged on a sob of pleasure, her shuttered eyes opening to bolster her plea. She was frustrated beyond belief, even as she luxuriated in his carnal prowess. Thinking to entice him into capitulating to her, she cinched her legs around him and tugged him closer to her core.

Severus stared down at her glazed eyes and parted lips, feeling his cock harden with brutal force. But he refused to surrender to her supplication, determined, even if it pained him, to treat her to the sensual seduction she should have received during their first encounter. He grasped her upper thighs and pried them away from his hips so that he could slide down the bed and between her legs, though she tried to resist with a tortured cry. When he felt her writhe helplessly, he grinned devilishly and traced his fingers down her abdomen, barely skimming her heated flesh. She reached toward him blindly, but Severus captured her hands and bracketed them at her sides.

"I will restrain you if I must," he warned, and, still holding her wrists pinned on either side of her rounded hips, he bent his head and brushed his lips across the crease where her thigh and hip met. She squirmed wildly in response, and he smirked before laving the thin skin above her mound.

"Oh gods," she keened, her whole body vibrating. She could feel herself growing undeniably wet from his ministrations, and a dull ache throbbed low in her belly. She felt empty, and knew she wouldn't feel whole until he filled her.

He began to wonder if he had a touch of sadistic desire within his being as he chose to torment her body further. He blew a cooling breath over the glistening curls at the apex of her thighs, watching gooseflesh rise on skin. She mewled something unintelligible which he swore sounded vaguely like, "You evil bastard," compelling him to keep her waiting for further consideration to her slick slit. He focused his attentions on the flat plane of her belly, nuzzling and nibbling just below her belly button. He had to shackle her wrists to her sides once more as she sought to ensnare him, and chastised her by dipping his tongue into her belly button, and growling against her skin; the vibrations coaxed more gooseflesh from her body, along with another desperate wail from the witch beneath him.

Surmising he'd baited her enough, he bent his head toward her heat, exhaling over her curls once more. He situated himself between her thighs, curling his arms beneath them and spreading her labia with his thumbs and forefingers so that he could slip his tongue into her center. Her strangled cry urged him on, and he lapped fiercely at her tight opening while his nose nudged insistently at her swollen clit. She bucked frantically against his face, encountering the first tremors of her release, but he desisted abruptly, lifting his face and navigating his way back up her body.

She wanted to scream at him, and had she the strength, would have rolled him over and mounted him. As it was, she simply tried to master her panting breaths while she glowered up at him.

"Tell me you want me and I shall give you what you seek," he rumbled against her ear, his teeth teasing her earlobe as his hot breath buffeted her neck. He slid his hands underneath her back and positioned himself at her entrance.

"Take me," she pleaded shamelessly, raising her hips. She craved what only he could give her, yearned to join with him in the most intimate way.

"Tell me," he demanded once more, stroking her nether lips with his turgid cock, gritting his teeth against the blistering sensation.

"I want you to take me!" she sobbed, her whole body curving to meet his.

He acquiesced instantly, sheathing himself in her tight heat, groaning at the glorious feel of her. He delved in and out of her, creating the most delicious friction he'd ever known, drawing ragged moans from deep in her throat. They moved in tandem in a ritual as old as time, clinging to one another as they soared into what seemed like another plane of existence entirely.

When they both lay sated, Severus having collapsed atop her with his face resting in the crook of her neck and her gentle hands stroking his hair and back, he recalled her earlier words. She would be meeting with that accursed vampire in just a few hours, and the knowledge twisted his gut.

"I don't want you to go to him," he confessed against her shoulder, his arms binding her securely to him. He felt wetness on his own shoulder, and reared back only to witness her endeavoring to suppress tears.

"I know," was all she was able to utter, before drawing his head back down to her and embracing him fiercely.


	10. Unveiling Intrigues

* * *

As she rushed toward the dark entryway of Knockturn Alley where Demyan was waiting for her, Hermione tried to bring her mixed emotions under control. Her night with Severus had brought a whole new dynamic to her situation. She was fiercely glad to have someone she could lean on so much without appearing weak, but simultaneously, she had to be extra careful with Demyan. If the vampire touched her in any way and Severus found out, the former Potions master turned Defense instructor would be livid, and perhaps try to involve himself even more with the mission. The pressure on her was enormous, and she tried not to feel as if she was suffocating because of it.

Demyan, ever the gentleman so far in their acquaintance – if one didn't count the sexual maneuvers he'd exhibited on the dance floor – was waiting for her in the shadows of Knockturn Alley. It was dangerous, being alone with him in such seclusion, but better there than his home, which he'd suggested first. She'd played the coy maiden and told him they could have dinner at the Lusty Wretch, only familiar with the seedy establishment because the Auror department had tracked numerous dark wizards to the place. And, in a bid to get them to stop scaring off his customers, the owner, a wizard who considered himself a retired pirate, had unsuccessfully tried to seduce her. Once again, she was thankful for her new disguise, even if it was merely an enhancement of her appearance as well as her confidence.

"Persephone," Demyan greeted in his usual low, seductive murmur. He was using his considerable lure as a vampire to his advantage, but since becoming one with Severus she found herself less affected somehow.

Confidence spurred on by this new feeling, she gave him a saucy smile and sashayed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to brush her lips across his jaw. "Demyan," she purred, leaning back to look into his eyes. She'd once found them mesmerizing, when she'd first met him. Now all she could think about was Severus' dark orbs, the way they warmed when she defied him. "I know we just saw each other last night, but I've found myself missing you in the short time we've been apart."

He smirked, fully aware of his allure. "Then I am exceedingly thankful we can spend this time together," he responded, and leaned forward to nip at her lower lip before sliding his arm around her waist and leading her towards the pub. There was something hard about him, something beneath the surface that was bothering him greatly – she could feel it in the steel of his arm, the press of his fingers into her side.

"Is something wrong?" she questioned softly, her heart skipping a beat at the idea that perhaps he'd found her out.

He frowned but continued walking, and Hermione noticed the Lusty Wretch up ahead. He urged her through the double doors of the reasonably-sized pub. The room was dim, almost smoky, and many eyes turned to them as they strode past to a table in the back corner.

"You'd think they had never seen a pretty witch before," Demyan snarled, sending warning glares to the wizards around them.

Hermione was surprised by his possessive attitude, but remembered with a shiver that he was a predator first and foremost, and predators didn't tolerate the sharing of prey. Ignoring the inquisitive stares all around them, she leaned forward and placed her hands over Demyan's clenched fists. "What is bothering you, darling?" The endearment came easily, but after it'd slipped out it tasted bitter on her tongue. This man was not her darling.

But that inspired a smidge of anger in her to swell up. So many times she'd been undercover and it had never bothered her to play a wizard to get the information she needed. It bothered her now, and all because of Severus Snape's unexpected entrance into her life, into her heart. She wanted to smack herself, and hex him. And then kiss him. At the silliness of the contradiction, she shook her head as if to clear it.

Demyan wasn't paying attention to her; his head was turned to glare at the owner of the pub who was eyeing Hermione and licking his lips. When the colorfully-dressed owner noticed Demyan, his smile faded and he gulped. He motioned one of the scantily-clad women servers to their table.

"What would you like?" Demyan asked of Hermione, finally noticing her hands on his and clutching them as he set his stark blue eyes on her.

Hermione cleared her throat and smiled pleasantly up at the buxom witch waiting for their preference, shocked to find the woman eyeing her with lust. Eyes widening, she managed to say, "Gillywater."

The wench's eyes barely slid from Hermione as she asked of Demyan, "And you?"

"Nettle wine," Demyan spoke, and waved his hand dismissively at the witch. She huffed and stomped off, her eyes continuing to slip back to Hermione.

Something about the way the woman stomped off reminded her of someone, but Hermione couldn't place who. It was only when she returned that Hermione noticed rapidly-appearing freckles and red hair surging at the woman's roots. Her eyes widened and she coughed delicately. The witch placed their drinks on the table with a suspicious frown, and Hermione coughed again as she recognized the familiar expression. Ronald bloody Weasley. Harry had sent Ronald to back her up tonight, and she couldn't be more furious over the decision. The git didn't even realize his Polyjuice was wearing off.

"Persephone?" Demyan was leaning forward in feigned concern, and she quickly grabbed his forearms to get him to stay put, and focus entirely on her.

"Ouch," she voiced as she patted her chest. She turned an eye on the "witch" standing behind Demyan and said nonchalantly, "I couldn't believe it when I saw _Polyjuice Potion_ on the menu!"

Ronald was slowly changing back, and for just a few moments, as he realized, the blood draining from his face, he had his own head and a woman's body. The image would be permanently burned in Hermione's mind, and she couldn't wait to share it with Harry and Ginny. Perhaps Harry would think better the next time he decided to send Ron in as her back-up when she was with another male.

Unfortunately her outrageous hint to Ronald had Demyan looking at her as if she'd fallen off the trolley, and she realized she needed to turn back on her charm right away.

She licked her lower lip slowly and reached for her mug of gillywater, sipping from it without taking her eyes off the vampire. She watched as his smirk returned and he began stroking her arm. After setting down her mug – and noticing he hadn't touched his – she insisted, "Now tell me what has upset you."

His face twisted into a furious mask, and she could've sworn she caught a glimpse of his fangs as he scowled. "A filthy Muggle officer tried to detain me on my journey here," he snarled, his hands clenching on hers.

Hermione ignored the fast beat of her heart and pretended outrage. "How dare he! Those Muggles always attempt to interfere in Wizard affairs." She shook her head and inquired silkily, "What did you do to him?"

"It was a 'she,' and suffice it to say I took care of her properly." She was nicely locked away in his cellar, but Persephone would never know that. "It purely angers me Muggles still exist." He scrutinized her irate expression as if he was trying to gauge her honesty in the reaction, and then continued in a low voice, "Better if the Dark Lord had destroyed them all."

Hermione was thankful she managed to master her reaction. She felt like screaming in triumph. "Oh, how I miss the Dark Lord so desperately!" The words actually made her sick to her stomach, but Demyan seemed extraordinarily pleased with her.

The vampire's eyes turned fanatical, sending a dark wave of fear through her which she did her best to stem. "If only I could finish his work. How great it would be to rid the world of those insignificant beings forever." He was straining with excitement over the idea, leaning over the table toward her with a faraway look. She wasn't even sure he realized what he was revealing to her, but if he was aware that he was, it meant he trusted her on some level. And why wouldn't he? She'd fabricated what a staunch Pureblood she was, had shown disgust at the appearance of the great Harry Potter at Triple Hex.

"You'd be my hero if you picked up where Lord Voldemort left off," she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes at him and clutching at his forearms as if completely caught up in his plot.

"Come here," he ordered, his eyes darkening to sapphire blue as his body tensed. He scooted his chair back further into the shadows of their dark corner, and grabbed her hips as she neared his chair curiously, bringing her down to perch on his lap. He swept a hand through her long hair, his thumb feathering across her jugular. Wrapping his hand around her nape, he tugged her face down and breathed against her lips, "You make my blood boil." He nipped at her lower lip, and then attacked her mouth roughly; kissing her so deep she almost lost her balance on his lap. He held her close, and situated her so that she was straddling him, so that her black robes fell open to expose her form-fitting black dress. His lips edged down her jaw, down her throat, down her neck, and she felt something sharp ghost across her skin just as the steel proof of his arousal jutted against her thigh.

"Demyan," she whispered, caressing his face, twisting his hair around her fingers. "I'd like to tell you something."

He paused, his hands grasping her thighs, his breathing harsh. "What is it?" he asked impatiently, his eyes intent on the rapid pulse in her throat.

"I… am a virgin. I'd… like to give you all of me, but on a very special occasion." She bit her lower lip and tilted her head to the side in mock-thought, her fingers teasing at the buttons on his silk shirt. "Perhaps the night you bring the Dark Lord's plans full-circle?" She knew she'd succeeded in enticing him when his fingers dug into her soft flesh in anticipation, and a low rumble of male satisfied laughter emitted from him.

"I like that. What a charming witch you are. And what a prize you will be for all my hard work." He leaned forward to nibble on her chin, the sharpness of his fangs gone. He inhaled deeply at her neck, and then removed her from his lap with a dramatic, regretful sigh. "I won't be able to wait long to… taste you." He watched her with hooded eyes. "I should begin now; the sooner this is complete the sooner I can have you." He grinned wolfishly, and stood to adjust his robes. "Shall I escort you back to your home, perhaps?" His tone suggested innocence, but she could tell he intended to do more than just leave her at her doorstep.

"Oh, thank you, Demyan, but I have some errands to run." She stepped closer to him, smiling excitedly. "Is there anything I can do to help you with your plan? Anything you need… money? I'll be visiting Gringotts."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the doors. "You're the motivation," he explained in his seductive low tone against her ear, and she shivered for his benefit.

Once outside, he stepped away from her and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a smattering of kisses along her knuckles. "I shall owl you when I've made progress," he promised. With that, he turned and walked to the edge of the alley, looking both ways before Apparating.

Hermione slumped against the wall and breathed deep, unbelieving how much progress she'd made in their visit. She couldn't wait to tell Harry and Severus, needed to get to a Floo network as soon as possible. She hurried out of Knockturn Alley and into Diagon Alley, and was nearly to Flourish and Blotts when she felt a hand on her elbow jerking her around. She came face to face with Ron, who was out of breath and doubled over from his efforts of catching up with her.

"Have you gone mad?" she whispered furiously, and jerked away from him to turn around and continue on her way, sending anxious looks around her as she rushed toward Flourish and Blotts. She was well-acquainted with the owners of one of the world's greatest Wizarding book shops, and knew they would let her use their Floo.

Ron hurried alongside her. "You found out something, didn't you? You didn't stay long!"

"I need to get in touch with Harry. We need to move in on Makarovin quickly." She burst into Flourish and Blotts, Ron in step behind her.

From the shadows beside Gringotts, a pair of ice-blue eyes tinged with red flared with ferocity.

* * *

Severus attempted to make his quarters as presentable as possible before Hermione's arrival. Luckily, he'd finished his classes for the day and had been taking a late lunch at his work bench when she'd Floo'd him, begging him to let her come to Hogwarts and speak with him. She'd sounded so urgent; he was dying to know what in Merlin's name was going on. That had been half an hour ago. She'd promised that as soon as she spoke with Harry, she'd come to Severus.

Another half-hour later, an insistent knock sounded at his door. He opened it expecting Hermione, but was still unprepared for her greeting – she threw herself toward him, sagging against his hard body as her arms wrapped around his neck. He embraced her to him, breathing her in, slightly disturbed by the happiness that settled over him with her in his arms.

"Oh Severus," she breathed against his chest, snuggling into him. "It will all be over soon!"

Severus pulled back, his hands settling on her waist and he gazed down at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know I went out with Demyan this afternoon." His hold on her tightened, and she reached up to smooth the frown lines from his face. "He was displeased about a Muggle police officer offending him in some way, and he couldn't help but rant to me about how he wished Voldemort's great plan had succeeded!" She cupped his face in her hands and smiled brightly. "Just a bit more evidence and we'll have him in Azkaban, and this mission will be over!" She hugged him again, her arms locking around his shoulders.

Anxiety mixed with relief to create a paradox of emotions with Severus. He held tightly onto her waist, leaned back to look down at her. "You cannot become too assured yet, Hermione. He is dangerous." He stepped back, turned away from her, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Something didn't feel right. Makarovin was known for his weaknesses with the pretty witches, but to drop his guard completely with "Persephone" would be quite a leap.

"Severus?" Hermione frowned and stepped up to his back, her hand sliding down his arm to lock her fingers into his.

"Tell me exactly what he said to you," Severus demanded, urging her around in front of him, holding her by the shoulders.

Hermione obediently repeated Makarovin's thoughts on ridding the world of Muggles, finishing Voldemort's work, and claiming her as a prize at the end of said work. Severus' eyes were darkening perilously with each word she spoke of her story, his hands tightening to a slight pain on her shoulders.

He couldn't believe that perhaps the madness would soon be over with, that he would have Hermione all to himself and have the opportunity to truly explore their relationship. He leaned down and captured her mouth hungrily, wrapping her into his embrace. She clung to him, as ecstatic as he was at the idea of ending the mission, triumph filling her every pore.

He guided her back toward his plush sofa, one of his hands curling around her nape so that their lips remained locked as he laid her back over the cushions. Just as he was lowering himself over her welcoming form, the Floo ignited and an envelope whooshed through the green flames.

"Sorry to interrupt, Severus," came Minerva's prim but amused voice, "but the owl had a small note attached saying it was urgent." With that, the flames disappeared.

An agitated growl escaped Severus as he rose to scoop up the parchment from the floor. He watched Hermione sit up on the sofa to smooth out her robes, his eyes narrowed. "Don't move," he commanded in a low voice, intending to finish what he'd started.

But the note turned his blood to ice in his veins, causing his heart to skip a beat and then begin a rapid rhythm. Hermione, taking in the look on his face, ignored his order to stay still, and lifted hesitantly to approach him.

"Severus?" Her voice shook.

"It's a note from Makarovin," Severus told her without preamble, not wanting to draw it out. He met her eyes over the parchment. "He wishes to meet with me in Knockturn Alley."


	11. Experiencing Terrors

* * *

The atmosphere in the Twisted Witch had Severus feeling on-edge. Barely lit, it held the darkest of wizard patrons, some Severus recognized as former Death Eaters that had managed to escape the Ministry the first time around; ones that had appeased their guilt by donating large sums of galleons to the Ministry while still practicing the Dark Arts.

He didn't want to be seen there. Those within the establishment were known to wholeheartedly appreciate the sign heralding the small building, a picture of a witch twisted in pain after the Crucio curse had been cast on her. Severus was beyond fascinated by the Dark Arts, but the thought of using the spells on another to cause harm sickened him… Especially when he'd seen the results many times. Still, the vampire had demanded they meet in this place within Knockturn Alley, which hadn't truly surprised Severus; Voldemort had even spoken highly of the place.

He sat at the far end of the bar rather than at a table, his head ducked so that his jet-black hair covered most of his face. His robes were clutched tightly around him as he focused on the task at hand. His plan must succeed if he were to help Hermione and the Aurors end this nonsense; moreover, to keep Hermione away from the monster. Severus hadn't known he could become so possessive, but the thought of Hermione alone with the vile vampire was enough to churn his stomach.

Demyan entered with his usual flair that Severus recalled from the days of the Dark Lord, robes billowing out as he came into the establishment, fangs extended and gleaming in the dim light of the room – all to intimidate the equally as foreboding patrons in the room. It would have been comical, the way he posed for a moment as if trying to make his presence known, if Severus didn't know how dangerous he really was.

The vampire spotted him, and he strode determinedly to Severus at the end of the bar.

"Severus Snape," he greeted, leaning in close, fangs glinting. "It has been an extraordinarily long time since we last met, no?" He clapped Severus' shoulder as he shook his hand.

Well-versed in making nice with wizards who utterly disgusted him, Severus smirked and nodded. "It is very satisfying to know others of our kind survived the war."

"Ah, but you did more than survive," Demyan returned silkily, sliding into the seat beside Severus. His voice stayed low, despite the fact they were in a place that would welcome such talk. "You were honored as one of the bravest war heroes." The vampire threw back his head and laughed. "You are an incredible deceiver. I respect that."

_If he only knew how incredible_ , Severus thought to himself, but squashed the thought. He could not become too confident with this monster.

"I am glad you managed to fool everyone, so that you can help me now." Demyan's ice-blue eyes bore into Severus, as if trying to see which side Severus was truly loyal to.

"Help you do what, exactly?" Severus shot a quick glance around the room. The other seedy patrons were lost in themselves, not paying them the slightest attention.

Demyan leaned forward even closer, and Severus had to fight the urge to move back. He understood the need for privacy, for even though most of the Dark wizards in the Twisted Witch would rally behind another Voldemort-type tyrant, they would just as soon sell "traitors" to the Ministry to increase their own riches. Still, being in close proximity to such a wretched being made Severus feel uneasy. He had been accustomed to enduring Voldemort's presence for the greater good, but four years the Dark Lord had been gone and Severus had thought he'd be free of that uneasy feeling in his stomach forever.

But for Hermione, he'd endure this and more…

"I want to finish the Dark Lord's work," Demyan murmured, barely above a whisper, lips barely moving. He glared at the bartender who was approaching to ask for orders, and the man immediately swerved around and attended to other patrons.

"Do you believe you can ascend to the greatness that was the Dark Lord?" Severus sneered, raising a brow in challenge.

Unfazed, the vampire continued. "That is where you come in, Severus. You were his right-hand man, his most trusted servant." Demyan cast a disdainful look about the room. "I've heard the rumors surrounding the final battle but I refuse to believe you would betray him; I saw your loyalty proven at every single meeting."

Severus was taken aback for a moment, wondering if all of it was some kind of trap. What if Hermione had slipped up somewhere? What if Severus' careful watch over her had alerted Demyan to the truth? But he could see the clear admiration the vampire had for him, or at least, the façade he'd displayed during his time as a spy. Makarovin was truly asking for his aid in completing the horrendous work of Voldemort.

Automatically Severus began to rack his brain for how to proceed. He needed to have proof, hands-on, tangible proof that Demyan was rising against the Ministry. But surely the vampire would know better than to provide such…

Misjudging his contemplation for hesitation, Demyan urged, "The Ministry is still attempting to rebuild, even after these four long years. They are so close." Demyan grinned. "It would be a perfect time to strike."

Severus slowly nodded, not glancing away from Demyan's icy gaze. "Indeed."

"The sooner the better," the vampire murmured, and turned to motion for the bartender, "I have quite a prize awaiting me upon our success." He ordered a drink and turned back to Severus, not noticing his sudden stiffness. "I have a lovely morsel who thinks she is so clever." His fangs flashed as he sported a lecherous grin.

Severus was completely frozen, and had to bite his tongue to bring himself back under control. His heart was jumping behind his breastbone, and he was very glad his collar came above his jugular. Part of him was pure rage, fury that Demyan would dare to speak of Hermione to him, to have such a look upon his most handsome vampire face while mentioning her; the other part of Severus felt pure horror at the thought of Demyan claiming Hermione as a _prize._

"You always did have a voracious appetite," Severus bit out, resisting the urge to close his eyes to block out the barrage of vile memories.

"This one is special," Demyan assured him, his face full of malicious glee. "Persephone is her name, and she resembles a goddess with her passionate, haughty demeanor and delectable body. Oh, how she enchanted me… at first." Demyan's teeth snapped together, but Severus didn't blink. "But then the lovely slut showed her true colors. Just after she offered herself to me upon the completion of the Dark Lord's work, I caught her with another. She's in with the Ministry, methinks." He swallowed the shot of Firewhisky before him in one gulp. "Oddly enough, her betrayal makes me want her all the more. Remember our fun with the Dark Lord's captives? I will have much more fun with Persephone."

Severus was sure his blood had just turned to ice. He called out to the bartender, proud of his steady tone, to bring him a Firewhisky. "The sooner the better, then," he agreed after he'd poured the burning liquid down his throat. "But that would mean we need to assemble quickly." 

Summoning all of his self-control to push thoughts of Hermione aside and focus on working his magic as a spy, he continued, "You must gather your minions."

Demyan frowned, fingering the edge of his glass. "My… minions?" he repeated, his eyes glazed over with the thought of such power.

"Of course. After all, one needs his minions to rule," Severus coaxed, building up the vampire's considerable arrogance in order to put his plan into action.

"Of course," Demyan murmured absently, a smile stretching to allow his fangs to peek out from behind his lips.

Severus pulled the parchment he'd received from Demyan requesting an audience out of his pocket, and transformed his unused straw into a ready-ink quill. "Here," he murmured, sliding the materials in front of the dazed vampire, drunk on the thought of having so much power. "Write a missive, summoning the old comrades. I'll gather and fill the ranks, and we can move forward." When Demyan seemed to almost snap out of his haze, eyeing the quill suspiciously, Severus continued hastily, "And you can devour your sweet morsel." Gulping back his disgust, he threw out his last means of gaining proof. "Persephone is sure to have the sweetest blood of them all."

Consumed with the notion of dominating the Wizarding world in Voldemort's stead, and of taking a juicy bite out of Hermione, Demyan scribbled a short note, surprising Severus in its forwardness.

_To my old friends in darkness –_

_  
_

_It is time to finish what we started with the Dark Lord. Come out and play._

Shouting with triumph repeatedly in his mind, Severus rolled up the parchment and placed it carefully into his pocket. He clapped Demyan on the back, and the vampire stood with a new malevolent light in his eyes.

"This is cause for a celebration. I have a treat that should tide me over until I have Persephone in my grasp," he confided, a red flame burning now in the depths of his startling blue eyes.

Severus smirked. "I'll be in touch."

* * *

Demyan Makarovin entered his home with fury resonating throughout his entire being. Severus Snape had almost fooled him – he was impressed enough to admit such – but as soon as the former Death Eater had insisted on Demyan sending out a missive, Demyan had realized what was going on. His suspicions confirmed that Snape and _Persephone_ – whom he'd discovered through careful following and investigation was actually none other than war hero and Auror Hermione Granger – were in league together. He'd suspected something was going on at Triple Hex, when his falsehearted witch had tried to distract him from the presence of Snape. And though, apparently, the witch had figured out bathing the ex-Potions master from her skin was a clever idea, for Demyan hadn't caught even a hint of Snape's scent on her, Snape hadn't been so astute; he'd reeked of the young witch, and Demyan knew he'd caught them off-guard with his request for a meeting.

Luckily, Severus Snape had no idea of Demyan's many skills, including pick pocketing. He'd snatched the parchment back as soon as Snape had stood up, and as soon as the traitor had departed, Demyan had Evanesco'd the parchment, written to _Persephone_ and asked her to come to his home in one hour, which would give him plenty of time to feed. Unfortunately, Demyan's last words rang true: he needed nourishment. If he hadn't, he would've dealt with Severus' deceit quite promptly.

Yes, he would feed on the foolish Muggle police officer who'd dared to cross him… and then he would deal with Severus Snape and Hermione Granger.

* * *

Severus knocked urgently at Hermione's door, hoping the neighbors wouldn't be bothered to see where the constant racket was coming from. His heart began to pound as he received no answer. Impatiently, he hissed, " _Alohamora!_ " But the door did not open, and Severus could've kicked himself. Muttering the passwords to her safeguards and unraveling them quickly, he hissed the spell to open her door once more, and charged into her flat. It was dark, silent, and he knew with a dangerous certainty she was gone. He cursed and stepped from her home, barely managing to slam the door before he Apparated on the outskirts of Hogwarts.

By the time he reached the castle, he had difficulty breathing. His legs were weak, and sweat poured down his face. Still, he didn't stop, storming to Minerva's office. The Headmistress would have answers for him.

He burst into her office, attempting to catch his breath as he steadied himself on the back of one of the chairs facing her massive desk. Her eyes were wide, her hand fluttering to her breast as she watched him.

"Hermione," Severus gasped finally, clutching his own chest as his heart pounded, "has she been here?"

"She left when you did," Minerva replied quickly, her voice sharp with concern. "What is going on?"

"Floo me to Potter," Severus demanded, staggering over to the Floo.

"Severus…" Minerva hastened toward the fireplace, but her anxiety was clear in her expression.

"Just do it, woman!" he commanded, and stepped into the Floo.

He expected to show up in the living of the Potters, and so he did… But he was unprepared to nearly trip over the couple as they necked furiously on a rug in front of the fireplace. He hopped over them and stumbled forward, but managed to swerve around to glare at them.

Potter's young wife was unabashed, merely pulling her shirt back down her body and sitting up silently. Potter, on the other hand, was bright red as he shoved his glasses back onto his face.

"Excuse me!" he shouted, rising from the floor and coming nose to nose with Severus.

"I don't have time for this, Potter," Severus told him tiredly, his voice cracking. He held onto his aching side. "I convinced Demyan to trust me with proof of his illicit activities, and I went to Hermione's flat to tell her, but she's gone." Severus fumbled around in his pocket, and his eyes widened as he felt nothing but the trouser lining. "It's gone." His nostrils flared. "He knows," he said in a grave voice, feeling a terror overwhelm him. "He knows about Hermione, and about me."

Harry grabbed his wand off the small table next to the sofa and shoved it into his back pocket. "We don't know anything for sure. We've got to keep a clear mind." He placed his hand on Severus' shoulder and squeezed. "We've got to stay calm."

In spite of the dangerous situation, Severus suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of pride in Harry Potter. He took several deep breaths and finally nodded. "Very well. What do we do?"

"I'll go to the office. Hermione gets very caught up in her work, and she was terribly excited about the information she'd gotten from Makarovin earlier today." Harry accepted the robes Ginny brought him, sending her a small but grateful smile.

"I will go to his home," Severus returned determinedly. His jaw clenched. "I remember it well." The torture chamber that was Demyan's home still crept up in his nightmares at times. The thought of Hermione possibly being there…

"You can't," Harry insisted, his lips thinning. "It's too dangerous. You shouldn't have even been dragged into this. Besides, we don't even know she's there."

"He knows about us, and you weren't there when he spoke of her." Severus turned and strode toward the door, pulling out his wand. "Come to his home when you are finished searching the office, and bring others." He opened the door.

"Severus," Harry called out, stopping Severus in his tracks, shocking him not for the first time that evening. He faced Harry slowly, his eyes narrowed. "She can take care of herself," Harry told him.

Severus nodded slowly. "I'm aware of that. But it doesn't stop me from wanting to protect her, as well."

Harry tilted his head, a puzzled look on his face. "You really fancy her, don't you?"

Fancy? Severus didn't think his emotions involving Hermione were so shallow. There could only be one cause for the icy steel grip of terror around his heart, all for her, and it was something he didn't want to dwell on at the moment. He just wanted to find his witch.

Without answering, he turned and exited the Potters' home, summoning his focus to Apparate.


	12. Facing Depravities

* * *

The sight of Ronald lying in a pool of his own blood, nearly drained dry, would forever be etched in Hermione's memory. She didn't have any feelings for him romantically, but he was still one of her closest friends. She, Harry and Ron were family. And the fact that her family was in danger made her tremble all over.

She'd found Ronald at the Apparation point just outside of her flat, where she'd been told he was. Demyan, in fact, had not written just any note, pleasantly asking her to come; he'd tipped her off about how he'd discovered her true identity and already dealt with the Auror who'd been in the Lusty Wretch, and if she didn't come to Demyan within the hour, he would attack others she cared about, others who had contrived with her… starting with Severus. She couldn't let that happen. She'd dragged him into this, inadvertently, but it was no excuse. She'd been his savior four years ago at the end of the war, and she would be again if it was the last thing she ever did.

She was confident in her power, in her talent. She knew what she was dealing with, and that was an added advantage. She'd rather not have to kill, but would do so if necessary. With no back-up, she knew killing might be her only option. She had meant to get in touch somehow with Harry, but after quickly expending strength to get Ron to St. Mungo's as soon as possible, she hadn't had enough of the hour left to get to Demyan's house, and she wasn't sure if the vampire was holding Severus hostage or what kind of situation she would be walking into.

The vampire's home was shrouded in shadows, and an aura of pure evil surrounded the place. It was quite a large manor, reminding her – she shivered – vaguely of Malfoy Manor. There were no lights, not a hint of life. Ivy crept up the side of the structure, wrapped around to add an eerie feel. She supposed it didn't help that the stars above were almost completely blotted out by heavy rain clouds, threatening to overflow at any moment. Drawing her robes tight around her, Hermione moved toward the foreboding home, summoning forth all of her Gryffindor courage… and some of the new Slytherin cunning she'd achieved from Severus.

As she reached for the handle to the front door, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She heard a low, pained moan, and then a scream that ended in a spluttering gurgle. Hermione's heart leapt. She clutched her wand tightly, her fingers settling comfortably, familiarly between the intricate vine designs. Making as little noise as possible, she pushed open the door slowly, peering in the darkness with narrowed eyes, holding her breath.

There were no more telltale sounds. A hush had fallen, sending chills over Hermione's body as she realized someone had been tortured, killed. Gulping, feeling a mixture of anger and fear – as she often had facing other men and beasts since her Hogwarts days – she murmured softly, " _Lumos,_ " and stepped over the threshold.

Her eyes widened in absolute disgusted shock and horror. Demyan was half-draped over an unrecognizable woman, her Muggle police officer garments slashed and hanging in mere threads on her lifeless body. Blood was everywhere, smudging the woman's pale skin; her throat was ripped open, and other jagged marks where teeth had torn her battered flesh could be seen.

Worst of all was the vampire crouching over her. His eyes were bright red, scarcely rimmed in his natural ice blue. His lips were pulled back in a predator's sneer, his dripping fangs fully extended. His hands clutched at his dead victim, sharp talon-like nails digging into the body. He suddenly closed his eyes and sniffed the air, breathing deep as if drawing the scent into his lungs. His lids lifted, and he gazed directly at Hermione, a malicious smile spreading.

"Ah, Persephone, right on time. You never disappoint, do you?" His voice was dripping with menace, just as blood dripped off his chin. He stood slowly, so gracefully in his vampire way that Hermione could barely tell he'd expended any effort. He kicked the Muggle's body aside carelessly. "Should I call you Hermione now? Your scent will be all over me just as it was all over your traitorous Severus." He glided toward her, his gaze capturing and holding hers so that for a few steady moments as he approached, she was utterly powerless to resist his will.

But his mistake was using Severus' name. It galvanized her into action, and she brought up her wand. " _Incarcerous!_ " she screamed the first spell that came to mind, one she'd used on lesser Dark wizards in the past, and turned to run. But she slid to a stop at the door as she heard continued heavy footsteps behind her. Eyes wide in disbelief, she saw Demyan, in all his vampire rage, ripping the ropes binding his body, shredding them as if they were paper-mâché. Spittle flew as he continued stalking her, flames leaping in his eyes, hands curled as if anticipating grabbing her and torturing her endlessly.

Trying again, she cried, " _Stupefy!_ " Not bothering to stick around to see if it worked, she sprinted out of the dark interior of Demyan's home.

She wasn't sure what action she should take. He had supernatural strength; spells didn't work in the same way they did against normal wizards. If she could get to the Apparation point, perhaps she could rally back-up and stop him before he went on the defensive and sought to escape them. But she knew it wouldn't be quick enough. She had to destroy him on her own. But could she? She'd never doubted her own power before, but the memory of the torn and bloody police officer hit her like a roaring wave, followed closely by an image of Ron soaking in his own blood.

In her moment of indecision, Demyan pounced on her from behind, and they went crashing to the hard ground, just as the heavens opened up and rain started pounding down on them. In his heightened strength, he ripped her robes down the middle as he struggled to get her on her back; she realized, as she fought him, that he was trying to get clear access to her jugular… and her wand, as she had been tackled onto the ground, had slipped from her grip and skittered across the ground a few feet away.

She resisted with all her might, but the vampire was incredibly strong, especially with his inner beast reigning. He maneuvered her onto her back and straddled her waist, effectively blocking any attempt on her part to knee him where it would surely hurt. His hands closed around her neck, cutting off her air so that her eyes bulged.

She was losing consciousness fast… and as she heard his triumphant, wicked laughter, she feared the last sight she'd ever see was Demyan's gleaming white fangs as he loomed above her, slowly leaning down to end her life…

…And then, miraculously, she spotted Severus Snape in her periphery.


	13. Claiming Victories

* * *

Unable to move, unable to breathe, Severus stood rooted to the spot, sweat running relentlessly down his brow. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, as if it couldn't bear the strain such a sight had brought to him. He was too late. Hermione's face was blood red as the vampire's hands strangled the life out of her, and his fangs were inches, then centimeters away from the pale line of her throat…

Then she made eye contact with him. Somehow, losing consciousness as she was, she spotted him. Obsidian eyes met cinnamon ones as their gazes locked, and Severus found the strength, the overwhelming surge of power propelling him to come to her rescue. He raised his wand and started forward.

But he need not have made one single move. Hermione seemed to gain strength from seeing him, and Severus was again stopped dead in his tracks as he witnessed her incredible strength of will. Hermione brought one knee up, while her other leg stayed straight on the ground. One of her hands wrapped around the vampire's wrist, the other held tight to his elbow. With all her might, she brought her straight leg up to bump Makarovin in his back, even as she twisted her hips and pushed with her hands firmly in place. In that swift and unexpected maneuver, Makarovin toppled over above her head, and Hermione rolled away from him toward her wand.

Severus felt the ripple of power behind him, but didn't pay attention – he knew Harry and other Aurors had arrived. As Makarovin began to rise with a snarl, Severus and Hermione pointed their wands at him at the same time and cried, " _Stupefy!_ " Several red jets burst from their wands, and also from behind Severus, and Makarovin lay utterly defeated in a heap before them.

Hermione met his gaze again, her breathing harsh, her hair in wild disarray, reminding Severus of her Hogwarts days when her curls had been utterly untamable. His heart constricted again in his chest when he thought about what could have happened to her; that he could have lost her. He charged toward her, clenching his fists, his eyes narrowed dangerously. It would have been comical, the way her eyes widened, the way her hand briefly fluttered up over her heart, if the situation weren't so somber.

"Are you mad, woman?" Severus wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her mess of hair, and he dragged her unresisting body close so that his forehead rested against hers. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose control in front of the Aurors who had come, but unable to manage the wild beating of his heart. "I should Stupefy you senseless for your lunacy." He was so proud of her, so impressed by her display of quick thinking, and yet at the same time he wanted to shake some sense into her for going to the vampire alone.

Hermione's hands crept up to rest on his chest; one curled into his robes, the other slid up to cup his cheek as if to calm him. His nostrils flared at the action. He should be calming her, not the other way around. "Insufferable," he murmured, and then captured her mouth in an urgent kiss, shoving his hands in her hair and holding her tightly to him for his invasion. His tongue battled with hers insistently; his body and mind needed to be assured she was alive and well.

The clearing of a throat made Hermione push away from him gently, a faint blush stealing into her cheeks. The feminine retreat made Severus want to claim her all over again, but he settled for wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and turning to face their interrupter.

"I told you she could take care of herself," Harry said proudly, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, the four Aurors he'd brought along were doubling their restraints on Makarovin, who was barely conscious.

Severus furrowed his brow and glanced down at Hermione. "What, exactly, was that maneuver you used? I know you didn't come across that in Auror training."

Hermione grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling, making him feel sucker-punched. "Muggle self-defense classes. I took them every summer. I always knew they'd be of use someday." She turned her grin on Harry, who was grinning back just as widely.

"I think I'll give you some time off now," Harry informed her, looking back over his shoulder to see the Aurors dragging Makarovin toward the place they'd Apparated to. "This was a difficult assignment." Harry gazed at Severus, his brow raising. "Your help was invaluable."

"Do not get any ideas, Potter. I'm not in the least interested in becoming an Auror." When Hermione pinched him, he grudgingly added, "But I will be happy to help in future."

When Hermione smiled dazzlingly up at him again, a realization hit Severus, the likes of which made him uncomfortable while at the same time made him feel alive.

He was in love with Hermione Granger.

He struggled with the notion, but knew it was the truth. She affected him as no other, had found her way into his affections with her compassion, her kindness, her cleverness, and her dedication. He was becoming stronger at blocking out old fears and emotions – that she would become disinterested, that he would do something to drive her away, or that his enemies would find a way to ruin them – but they still railed against his better judgment. He took a deep breath. He was still a little shaken from seeing Hermione in the hands of one of the most depraved beings he'd ever known, and perhaps that was what had caused him to come to such a conclusion. Now that her assignment was finished, he could truly spend some time with her, and see if such a conclusion was correct. The thought of being in her presence more excited him, and he vowed to continue restraining those old, volatile emotions he'd had before the war.

"Severus?" Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down at her. Her lovely tawny eyes showed some kind of deep feeling for him, and he wondered if his own eyes mirrored that. "I want to see him put in Azkaban; it will give me an added sense of triumph. Do you want to come with me, or do you want me to meet you later?"

He wasn't about to let her out of his sight. He tightened his arm around her waist and nodded toward the Apparation spot, a secret smirk on his face. His witch never failed to amaze him.

* * *

Hermione lay in Severus' arms, feeling as content as a well-fed kitten. She snuggled closer to him, breathing in his scent, rubbing her toes over the hair on his muscled legs. She smiled as she recalled the fierceness of their lovemaking; he'd nipped at her enough to put a vampire to shame, but then, she felt him justified, as she'd left scratch marks all up and down his back. 

"What are you smiling about, witch?" Severus inquired, not opening his eyes as his head rested on the pillow.

"You make me feel so… content, Severus. Look, even Crookshanks wants your attention." Her half-Kneazle cat had jumped onto the blankets at their feet, and was nuzzling Severus' big toe. Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach at the sight of it. She felt happier than she ever had. Sometimes, it became unbearably lonely in her flat, all by herself. Of course Crookshanks was always there to cuddle up with, but the feeling she had when she lay in Severus' arms far surpassed anything she'd ever experienced. He was strong, so strong, an inspiring combination of intelligence and power, and she felt protected. Even though she was an independent woman, it felt nice to have someone to lean on, if she felt the need.

"Tell me what made you go to him," Severus suddenly demanded, opening his eyes as a deep frown creased his forehead. "Did you not realize the danger, Hermione? He is a monster."

Hermione frowned, as well, and began drawing circles on his chest. "Of course I knew of the danger. But I couldn't let him hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. He sent me a note. It was so vile. He admitted he'd hurt Ron, and he said if I didn't come to him he would pick up where he left off with you as his next target." She pressed her face to his chest. "I couldn't let that happen. I was terrified. I knew you'd met with him and didn't know if he'd done something to you or not. I had to protect you."

A deep rumble of laughter erupted from him, and when she appeared slightly hurt by his reaction, he stroked her long tresses with gentle fingers. "Always the noble Gryffindor." He bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "Always trying to be my savior."

"And succeeding, mind you!" Her fingers caressed the scar of Nagini's bite on his neck. She leaned up to press a kiss to the spot, uncaring that he tensed. He didn't like the reminder of his near-death, didn't like having yet another ugly scar. For good measure, she kissed the mark fiercely again. "This time, Severus, you were my savior."

Gruffly, he asked, "What are you talking about now, you daft bird?"

She swatted at his chest, but smiled at him. There was so much love flowing out of her, her eyes sparkled at him, her smile made him ache. "I lost all my confidence when he was over me, when I heard his disgusting laughter, saw his fangs. But then I saw you. And I knew I could defeat him, because you were there." Her fingers glided across his chest as she spoke. "You were my savior this time."

Severus was unsure how to respond to her heartfelt words. He was overcome with what he knew was love for her, but years of refusing such an emotion held him back from responding. He just continued to gently stroke her hair, her back, cursing himself all the while for letting his old self get to him.

Her fingers stilled for a moment, and he felt her body tense minimally. She breathed deeply. "I will be… making a trip to Paris sometime this week." Her voice was timid, and he felt just a tiny tremble rack her frame. She idly smoothed her hair away from her face, but he recognized it as a nervous gesture, and he suddenly understood.

She was going to Paris to return to her regular appearance, to get the enhancement of her features removed at the same salon she'd had it put in place. She was worried he wouldn't find her attractive anymore, that she would return from her trip and he would be long gone from her life. It angered him slightly that she had so little faith in his pursuit of her, but then with a sinking feeling he realized she had every right to believe he would be uninterested. He'd been obvious in his desire for her from their first evening together in Hogsmeade, had pointed out how beautiful she'd become… and in the meantime, he hadn't once made her any promises of commitment, of love, even though he'd wanted to. He was going to lose her through his own stupidity if he wasn't careful.

But an idea came to him, and he smiled wickedly. Upon her return, he would prove to her just how serious he was about her – enhanced beauty or no – and she would never again doubt his interest, his… love.

_Love._ The word didn't bother him as much anymore, not when he felt the smoothness of her skin, not when he looked into her eyes.

"I will miss you," he told her, his voice low, his lips pressed against her forehead.

Hermione climbed atop his body, the sheet falling away from them. Almost desperately, she kissed and caressed his body, as if this was their goodbye and she was trying to memorize every aspect of him. He held her tightly, kissing and caressing her back, trying to give her some reassurance that he would still be there when she returned.


	14. Turning Tides

* * *

Harry, Ginny, and Ron were waiting for her when she was transported back to the Ministry with the help of a Portkey. Though she was very skilled at Apparation, long-distance traveling could be intense, especially in the frenzied state of mind she was in. After shoving the ink bottle Portkey into her robes, she took a deep breath and faced her friends.

Ron was gazing at her oddly. That was what she had been afraid of. She had always been comfortable with her outside appearance, but it had been nice for a while to capture the attention of many wizards. Now she felt self-conscious, and she hated that. She scowled at Ron and started to move past her friends toward the Auror Office.

"Hermione," Ginny started, touching her elbow.

"What?" Hermione asked moodily, not glancing back.

"Snape asked us to tell you that dinner is at seven." Harry was frowning, watching her closely. He and Ginny knew her too well. She avoided their stares as she trudged into the office.

She was aching to see Severus, had missed him even though she had only been gone over the weekend. At the same time, she wanted to avoid him at all costs. He had been so intrigued with her because of her enhanced appearance. The thought of losing him, just as she'd lost her smooth locks and rouged face, was cripplingly disconcerting.

As she plopped down at her desk and shrugged out of her robes – revealing the little black dress she'd changed into before leaving Paris – she caught Ron staring at her from her peripheral. Frowning intensely, she all but hissed at him, "What are you staring at, Ronald?"

He cringed back from her fierce tone, but the puzzled look on his freckled face remained. He rubbed his chin as he leaned his hip against her desk. "It doesn't seem like… much was changed," he explained hesitantly, fearful of her wrath being unleashed.

She sneered, and would have been amused at how much she probably resembled Severus in that moment, except she wasn't amused at all by Ronald's comment. She turned away from them all and peered into the small Muggle mirror she kept at her desk, grateful it wouldn't be telling her she'd made a mistake in returning to her old self.

Ginny caught her husband's eye and tilted her head in the opposite direction, signaling she wanted him and Ron to back off. Her astute husband took the hint, and he grabbed Ron by the shoulder to lead him away.

"Hermione," Ginny began, her voice soft. She moved closer to her best friend, reaching out to rub her back consolingly.

"I can't do this right now!" Hermione exclaimed, shoving away from her desk and burying her face in her hands, trembling slightly.

Ginny smiled kindly down at her, continuing to comfort. "You took on a full-fledged vampire, Hermione. I think you can handle dinner with the man who loves you."

Hermione's head snapped up. "Don't say that. It's the whole reason I'm upset. This isn't about love, not to him. And it certainly won't be about anything else once he sees me."

When Ginny scoffed, Hermione looked pleadingly up at her. "The man is smitten, whether you've got frizzy hair or straight; whether you have eyeliner on or not."

If only that were the case, Hermione thought dismally to herself. She'd never felt so self-conscious, so unconfident. Even fighting in the Final Battle, knowing her life could end at any moment, she'd been more courageous than this.

"If he can't accept me for the way I am, I don't want him anyway," she announced, standing and running her fingers through her untamable hair. She faced Ginny resolutely, determinedly.

"You know this is all rubbish, right?" Ginny handed Hermione's robes to her. "You are enchanting."

Hermione was grateful for her friends, but sometimes, she thought they were absolutely unhinged.

* * *

The moment of truth would come soon.

He hadn't been this nervous in his entire life, not even while facing the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack. His insides were churning, and a fine sweat was breaking out across his brow. It was as if he had been holding back his declaration to Hermione for too long, and now he was one big pressure cooker, ready to explode at any moment. He needed to say the words to her, and yet, the gravity of those words still managed to give him the wiggins.

Severus shook his head as if to clear it and continued pacing outside of the restaurant in Hogsmeade. They were meeting at the exact same place they'd first shared dinner, something he'd arranged purposely for the occasion. He had much to say and prove to her.

Only, when Hermione met him outside, she did not seem to appreciate the choice of restaurant whatsoever. Color suffused her cheeks and she wouldn't quite meet his eye. Nevertheless, he took her robes for her and placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her to their table.

It felt good to have her back. His blood was raging, and he knew he would only ever feel this way for her. The little black dress she wore clung to her considerable womanly curves, and his palms itched to wrap themselves around those very curves. Her wild hair made him smile at the same time he wished to smooth it back from her face and nibble his way down her neck. But, as he helped her into her seat and she finally managed to look up at him, love blazing in her eyes along with a heap of uncertainty, he realized with a twisting in his chest that, as much as he loved her womanly body and silky skin, he was much fonder of her courageous and caring heart.

A wicked smile erupted onto his face as he felt himself become at ease with the knowledge. He loved her, and there wasn't a bloody thing wrong with that. The tides had effectively turned in his favor, and he wasn't about to conduct himself as an idiot and lose the woman seated before him.

After ordering their drinks, Severus caught her fidgety hands in his and leaned across the small table toward her. "You stole my breath when I first saw you, Hermione." His thumbs caressed her knuckles, and he willed her to meet his eyes. When she did, he was a little confused. Their tawny depths were filled with fire, apparently over his statement, and he wondered what he'd said wrong.

"Are you referring to when we first came here? Or now?" Her defensive, clipped tone would've made the old Severus proud.

He frowned and squeezed her fingers. "Both."

She pulled away from him as she spotted their server approaching. "Don't be ridiculous," she murmured under her breath, sitting up straight and inspecting the menu.

Severus was floored with the knowledge that, while he seemed to have finally gained a high amount of self-confidence, Hermione had lost some of hers… and he had had a part in that. 

He'd gushed over her appearance along with all the others; she had no reason to trust he would stick around. Determined, he snatched her fingers back into his when the server left, and squeezed until she glared up at him.

"All you could do the last time we were here was sit in awe and devour me with your eyes." A harsh laughed escaped her, making his chest tight. "And now look at me."

With a raised brow, Severus leaned in and murmured, "I see no difference."

Hermione jerked back, her expression incredulous. She recalled with stunning clarity her Fourth Year and the cruelness she'd had to face in Potions. The same words he'd used then to utterly destroy her now made her feel light, made her heart drop to her stomach in hopes that he was speaking the truth, that he meant what he said. To her horror, her lower lip started to tremble, and she met his obsidian eyes. "Truly?" She wasn't sure she wanted to believe. Believing meant potentially, down the road, getting hurt. And Severus could hurt her, very badly, if she permitted it.

But then he flashed the most incredible smile she'd ever seen anyone display, transforming his countenance into a youthful, breathtakingly handsome man – stopping her heart completely. Stroking her fingers, he said clearly, softly, "I love you, Hermione."

She sat in stunned silence, willing her joyful tears not to come, willing her heart to discontinue pounding its erratic rhythm. She realized she was gaping at him but couldn't bring herself to stop. Severus Snape loved her? It was better than her Order of Merlin, First Class. She just sat there gaping at him, hoping against hope that it could be true. But the man was smiling at her with his heart in his black eyes. Severus Snape, former Death Eater, all-around mean, snarky, sarcastic git, was professing his love to her and appeared to mean it wholeheartedly. She was sure he was incapable of smiling like that unless he meant it.

"Your dinner," their server announced as he appeared at their table holding a tray, and she had an unsettling urge to giggle as Severus glared daggers at the interrupting young man. He seemed to grudgingly accept that they needed to eat, and picked up his fork with a muttered oath. Hermione let her bliss wash over her, casting sneaky glances at him from under her lashes as she ate her own meal.

They both finished sooner than was perhaps expected, but then both of them were filled with anticipation.

"Come back to my quarters with me," he commanded, his eyes intent on her face.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "We haven't even had dessert yet." She wanted to throw her head back and laugh at their remembered first date.

"I promise you," he murmured huskily, "you wouldn't miss it."

She did laugh then, but nodded and watched him lovingly as he impatiently – just as last time – dealt with their server in his haste to get her into his bed. He all but shoved her robes onto her shoulders and dragged her out into the crisp night air down to the path leading to Hogwarts.

She dug in her heels and put her hands on her hips. "What were your intentions when you invited me to dinner, Severus?" Her eyes sparkled. It was too much fun, being in the same situation as their first time together, and yet knowing the outcome would be so much more satisfying. He'd recreated all of this for her, to reassure her, and though Hermione was an independent, confident woman… it felt good to be reassured. To feel loved, not just by any man, but by Severus Snape.

He stalked toward her, making her knees go weak. She loved it when he did that; it set flames licking along her skin. Just as before, he caught her around the waist with one arm, while his other wrapped around her shoulder and his fingers sank into her hair. "I didn't think you would ever be wondering over my intentions." He dipped his head to press kisses to her throat, curving her like a bow over his arm. "I intend to take you back to my quarters, strip you bare and have my wicked way with you, and show you in addition to telling you how very much you mean to me." He ground his hips into hers, making her breath hitch in her throat. "How much I love you." He captured her lips then, pressing her tight to him as he explored her mouth passionately. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "And you will say it back, woman."

"And show you," Hermione whispered, locking her arms tight behind her back. "Don't forget the showing part."

Severus laughed, and the sound was music to her ears. He swung her up into his arms and took the last few steps to the castle doors.

From the shadows, Headmistress McGonagall observed them with a smirk on her face.

* * *

Hermione stood at the end of Severus' massive bed, breathing shallowly. The dark ebony wood of the bed frame contrasted nicely with the Slytherin green sheets. "I've never been in here," she whispered faintly, slightly marveling over that fact. True, she'd almost been here a couple of times, but Severus had never succeeded in getting her past the threshold. Now she was here and it felt like she was absolutely past the point of no return… right where she wanted to be. She was reeling from his earlier admission, and now that she had time to devote to letting it wash through her and spread joy throughout her nervous system, she wasn't about to waste time.

She turned toward him where he leaned against the bedroom door, watching her closely. His obsidian eyes were narrowed in hunger for what was to come, yet at the same time they were deep with some emotion – love. It had to be. And she was astounded.

She dropped her robes from her shoulders, her eyes never leaving his, even as she walked slowly backwards until the backs of her knees hit the great black chest at the end of the bed. She slowly lowered to perch atop it, and leisurely ran her hand along her leg as she raised her knee so that she could remove her heels.

Severus stalked forward, just like she'd known he would. He knelt in front of her and took her slim ankle in his palm so that he could ease first one shoe off and then the other. His touch was urgent but gentle as he ghosted his fingers across her legs.

"You do enjoy undressing me, Severus." She was smirking, pleased, overjoyed, so grateful she could call this man hers.

"I anticipate it much the same way as some student would anticipate entering Honeydukes." He rested his forehead against one of her knees as his lips caressed the smooth skin of her leg. Hermione's fingers traveled through his dark hair, massaging his scalp gently as they both reveled in their shared adoration.

But then Severus lifted his dark head, and she knew she was in for one extremely satisfying night.

Large, deft fingers trailed up her smooth thighs, leaving behind chills in their wake. His hands wrapped around the thin lace of her knickers, and tugged them down over her hips ever so slowly. Severus seemed enthralled as he watched her shimmy on the black chest, helping him remove her undergarments. When he got them to the backs of her knees, he stripped them down her legs in one smooth motion with a wicked smirk. Lust gleamed dark in his eyes as he gripped the edge of her dress and leaned forward onto his knees to slip it over her head. She wanted to laugh at his flabbergasted expression when he discovered she hadn't bothered with a bra; the dress was cut so low in the back it hadn't been possible to wear one. But the laughter died on its way out of her throat. Severus was wearing that utterly serious expression, the one she figured the Big Bad Wolf must have worn when he came across Little Red Riding Hood in the old fairy tale.

He rose before her and slipped his own robes off, his eyes devouring her body as he did so. Hermione stood, as well, and reached up to caress the buttons of his black jacket, eyeing them speculatively. She dropped to her knees on the floor, grasping for her robe, and her cheek brushed against the hard, heavy evidence of his wealth of desire. She blushed as he hissed, and smiled up at him apologetically.

He shoved a hand into her curls and breathed, "I quite like you in that position."

Hermione raised a brow even as a slow grin broke out across her lips. "Agreed." She wrapped her hand around her wand from her robes, and leaned back on her calves to perform a little swish and flick. His clothes dropped by themselves with the spell, and she savored the sight of his naked flesh. He was lean, but ripped, like some sort of jungle panther; he got much exercise in his role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, that much was evident. His pale, smooth skin was dusted liberally with manly dark hairs; she appreciated the trail down his abdomen, leading her to one of her favorite parts of him. She'd long gotten used to the multitude of scars decorating his body, and thought they showed him as a courageous man, not the coward many had named him before the war. Her eyes returned to his bobbing erection in front of her face. He was quite the extraordinary man.

"Take your time, m'lady," he ground out through clenched teeth, his fists convulsing at his sides. "I'll just wait patiently."

They both knew he wasn't a patient man, especially when it came to something he wanted badly. Taking mercy on him, she came up on her knees once more and wrapped her hand around the base of his impressive cock, bringing her lips toward the tip so slowly she felt his entire body tremble. She blew across his heated flesh, and he groaned. His hands came up to sink into her curls as she opened her mouth around him and took him in.

Stars burst behind his eyes, stunning him as she moved her mouth forward and back, laving him leisurely with her tongue. Her mouth was hot, moist, just like the sanctuary between her legs – a kind of Heaven. He arched into her, demanding she take more, and when she obediently took as much as she could of his length into the warm cavern of her mouth and sucked, while squeezing the base of his cock, the top of his head near to blew off.

She was fierce now in her oral exploration of him, her mouth suctioning wildly while her hands stroked his testicles. Higher and higher she took him, and he could feel himself about to explode… But just before he reached his climax, she drew back, her hands clutching his thighs, her mouth pouty and her eyes hooded. He stared down at her as a tic in his jaw started, and his gaze narrowed dangerously when she sat back on her calves, running her nails across his thighs as she gave him a wicked smile.

His nostrils flared. "You'll pay for that, wench," he promised retaliation in a gruff voice. He snatched her under her arms and drew her up, stifling the gasp that nearly slipped out of him as her smooth skin slid up his body, as the tiny hairs at the junction of her thighs rasped against his straining cock.

Hermione's hands gripped his shoulders. "I was hoping you'd say that." She used his shoulders to pull herself up so that she could press her lips to his. Her tongue slid along his lower lip, and when he tried to draw her into his open mouth, she teased him yet again by moving from his lips to his jaw, pressing tiny kisses to the tight muscles there.

A low growl escaped him moments before he grabbed her waist and lifted her, tossing her back onto his bed. There had been a time when he had eagerly anticipated seeing her skin flushed Gryffindor red from his ministrations, contrasting with his Slytherin green sheets, and nothing had changed. He fell on her like a hungry wolf before she had time to blink, tugging her to the end of the bed and jerking her legs apart. He slid them over his shoulders.

She was glistening with desire. The sight of her parted folds fervently awaiting his attentions transformed his erection into a throbbing beast. He bent his head and stroked his tongue up her opened center, and she writhed as she cried his name. He was just as teasing as she had been, blowing cool air against her heated core, pressing kisses so close to where she needed them most but not quite there, nipping at the tender flesh of her inner thighs. Only when she started pleading unabashedly with him, crying, "I love you, Severus, oh please, oh please!" did he appease her, finding her pulsating clit with his tongue and then closing his lips around the swollen bud, sucking at her feverishly. Her hips were bucking uncontrollably, her hands clutching the sheets beside her hips until her knuckles turned white. Severus used his thumb and forefinger to gently pinch her clit while he thrust his tongue into her core, a promise of things to come. He fucked her with his tongue while he stroked her with his deft fingers, but he returned the favor and stopped short just before her orgasm overwhelmed her.

As he lifted her to situate her at the top of the bed and rose over her, tears spilled out of her eyes. He kissed them away, stroking her face, her neck, her waist, even as he settled between her thighs.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised her on a loving whisper, then kissed her gently. His lips moved down her chin to her neck, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the spot just below her ear. She responded by moaning softly and stroking his calves with her toes, and so he continued down her throat to her collarbone. He nibbled gently, as his hands came up to cup her breasts.

He never dreamed he'd have a woman such as Hermione. She was utterly beautiful to him, shining from the inside so that he could barely breathe with the weight of his love for her. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, worshipping her in his own way. His palms cupped the weight of her gorgeous breasts as he rolled his thumbs across her peaked nipples. Unable to resist the lure of taut buds, he bent his head and stroked his tongue across first one, then the other, nuzzling in between tasting them. He massaged the heavy weight of her flesh, pleased when she lifted her hips and began to rub against him.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered against her cheek as he penetrated her tight, fiery sheath. She wrapped her arms around him, her nails immediately digging into his back to urge him on – he loved that, that she could demand things of him in her uninhibited state. He pressed wet kisses to her neck as he rode her slowly, easing in and out, a kind of torture for them both as her inner muscles clamped around him.

"More," she begged of him, opening her eyes and cupping his face in her hands, arching up against him eagerly.

Severus captured her lips, kissing her passionately. Their tongues dueled fiercely as he continued his leisurely pace. She pinched his arse, and he drew back with a husky, strained chuckle. "No more until you return the words."

Hermione clenched her thighs tightly around his waist, bringing him deeper into her. He groaned loudly into her ear, and she did it again. "That's unfair, Severus." She raised her hips, drawing him even deeper, and felt him edge along that sweet, delicious spot inside of her. Her moan mingled with his. "I tell you all the time," she bit out, her arms tight around his back.

"Say it, or neither of us gets to come." The tip of him ghosted along that spot once more as his hands squeezed around her thighs. He felt as if his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

"I love you," she half-whimpered, stroking his hair back from his face so she could look into his eyes. "I love you more than books."

He throbbed inside of her in response to her heated words, and would've laughed if he didn't feel perilously close to losing control. "I love you more than the Dark Arts," he told her, and it was the only warning she received before he thrust deeply into her, hiking her legs up so high they were nearly on his shoulders. His fingers dug into her waist as he pounded into her, hitting her sweet spot full on now, along with grinding against her swollen clit. They moaned each other's names, holding on tightly to one another as they rose higher and higher, reaching the pinnacle of their love together.

A delighted scream ripped out of Hermione's throat as her climax threw her in a free fall; Severus roared above her like some great big lion. They exploded into joyful fragments, coming together after teasing each other mercilessly. Hermione knew she would never be the same; Severus knew it, as well.

He rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, before he could collapse on top of her. Hermione collapsed on top of him, instead. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his chin across the top of her head affectionately, and she cuddled against his warm, spent body, satisfied and purring like a well-fed kitten.

"Will we always feel this way, Severus?" Hermione asked, her voice muffled against his chest. Her arms tightened around him, her legs entwined with his.

"Forever, Hermione. There's been a turn of the tide… for both of us." He kissed the top of her head, and they fell asleep dreaming of their future together.


End file.
